i filled up my whole journal i got on christmas. i have a new one, i'll write in it the same, but strangely it is giving me sadness as if something is ending. i dont want it to end. i dont want to stop carrying around these written memories, both in my backpack and in my mind. but at least ive gotten to the chances to write all this. at least i ( Read more... )

i was writing in my journal the other day and i had a really weird experience. even when shit sucks i feel like i cant even be truthful to myself about how much shit sucks. like im still thinking someone is reading what im writing and i have to save face. yesterday i just wrote. i wrote the truth. as fucked up as it was. i kept writing and after ( Read more... )

entry from my journal that i've been writing in (causing me to neglect livejournal ( Read more... )

I am so in love.

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i reeked of
your pheromones all day.
i drenched myself
in you,
and i mourned
as i washed you off my skin.
it was nice carrying you
with me.

you are my medicine when youre close to me.

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thursday night i wore my contacts. me and jess went to the olive garden and were assholes to everyone. then i said i wanted to lay in the grass in a park, but all we did was stand on the grass in a park talking about her boyfriend. i pretended to listen. i didnt tell her that i thought they were taking it all too fast. i drove home. i changed back ( Read more... )

"I will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering, which is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather its lining. We do not remember. We rewrite memory much as history is rewritten. How can one remember thirst?"

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