happy seventeenth birthday to enfold, my little fashionista.

The two most important things I could ever have learned about myself are: no matter how much I would like to have a nervous breakdown and be mercifully shipped off to a room somewhere and fed sedatives for the rest of my life, I will always stay upright, lucid, and reasonably competent whether I like it or not because there is a part of me that ( Read more... )

I would like to thank a faulty space heater with a penchant for making a clicking noise for providing me with an opportunity to burst out laughing and to hear my counsellor say "motherf-" and then stop. I forgot to tell her my joke this week, which is starting to really bother me. It's the one from The Perks of Being a WallflowerQ: "What has 32 ( Read more... )

Friends list cleaning. I'm sorry, but I'm shy and paranoid, and I don't want to be too shy to post in my own journal. Thanks.

"In the Golleschau quarry, stone-carriers were forced to haul huge blocks of limestone endlessly, from one mound to another and back again. During the torture, they carried their lives in their hands. The insane task was not futile only in the sense that faith is not futile ( Read more... )

When the thing you want most is to go back to the day you were conceived (May, 1986) and take the form of the voice above your father's right ear as he stands naked and staring at your mother and scream at him to put on a condom until he listens, you gradually become accustomed to not getting what you want. They teach you as early as kindergarten ( Read more... )

I know of a man whose mother told him that he could be anything he wanted, until he told her that the only thing he wanted was to be an eagle. At the time, he was only seven years old, he had ten fingers and ten toes. He had never been afraid of heights. But his mother, fearing for his heart, overtime replaced his picture books of birds with ( Read more... )

I have always hated birthdays and the turn of new years, because it never seems like I have anything to carry with me except the weight of crying ( Read more... )

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It is possible to be in love with someone who you will only ever need to kiss on the cheeks and temples or watch sleeping from another bed. The movement of the sheet over their ribs, a secret rhythm, can sometimes equal or surpass the rhyme and metre of two bodies moving in tandem. But platonic guarantees don't erase the act of falling or dim the ( Read more... )