and love being like a rose ( Read more... )

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So I suppose the point of a journal is to write, which is a similar (not to mention essential) point in trying to be a writer. Lately, read Death Be Not Proud and fell in love with Johnny Gunther. Usually, too afraid of death like that to continue but upon picking up the book and already nearly crying and falling in love, I had to persevere. Why ( Read more... )

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sometimes, it's a vice, tightening around my ribs with each passing day of silence. the pressure builds slowly, invisibly and just like a machine, all gears and steel and coldness. the wheels of a clock tick like a jackhammer, like a heartbeat and instead of stretching, reaching, creating, giving birth to art eras and bleeding dry-- i am going on ( Read more... )

wires and wires and a thousand miles, like water over rocks or your voice on the line. to be fully awake at midnight, to be old and seventeen or like knives sharpening against each other and palm trees bending in the wind like we bend towards each other, to be unwilling but easy, to set things in motion, tread a million tangents with one word, fit ( Read more... )

going to florida march 25th-31st. will miss you all, of course. xx

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i don't know where to go from here.