it makes me feel like such a teenager, but i love that feeling, you know? like i could just take on the world, breath it in and have it inside me, conquered and resting in my lungs.

late night rainy drive to belmar, new jersey; kat's matching him cigarette for cigarette and she flicks the embers past my window;;;;;;    and next to me she's screaming of how beautiful it is, of the rain of the trees of the road and i pretend i can hear her over the music. the beach: windy and lonely, my hair blows and my skirt blows and we play ( Read more... )

alyssa took my papers, my dumb chemistry note journal entries and fucking gave it to Them and i feel so bare now. i lied; cried my way through a huge fucking fib about stealing money and pills from my friends cancer-ridden mom. fuck. i don't even know why. i just didn't want them to have any more of me, they already had those, that was enough. i'm ( Read more... )

can'twritecan'twritecan'twrite.
never could
i don't know why i can't bring myself to stop, why i keep trying to improve it. it's pointless. everything is, if you ask anybody, but who cares what anybody says, right?

mostly, because this is what it turns into. either a bitchrant in general, or a bitchrant about my own bitching and ranting.
gaaaaaaaaah ( Read more... )

drew has written a piece of poetry everyday for the past 3 years ( Read more... )

inadvertently isolated myself from everyone.
not really; no one wants me anyway.

three most important people in my life right now:
megan
julie
and tony

i'm growing. not getting taller or wider, but it's still an up and out, if you understand. becoming more aware of... everything. mostly things about myself, what i want, why i want it, and how fucked up i ( Read more... )

annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd i still didn't do grad project.

elsewise would be wonderful if i could not be so goddamned ridiculous. and pathetic. and frustrated. [ridiculouslypatheticallyfrustrated]
i can't. calm. down. enough. my mind. won't. STOP. it loops and surrounds itself, tying knots in my thought fragments, stretching and fraying. and i get so scared, paralysed by Night, lying there pregnant, bloated ( Read more... )

essay on whatever i want. whateveeriwant. wahtver i whannt.
sure conrad.

you know what i want? some motivation. some goddamn drive. to actually WANT something so fucking badly that i'd do anything for it. i don't exist in the future tense; i stopped making goals for myself in the sixth grade. sex talks, first bra, and the realization that nothing ( Read more... )

collecting nascar models is symptomatic of a desperate life. same as owning too many shoes, or smoky sunday night bingo. yeeeehaw. stuffing our already bloated houses and bodies with everything but. and becoming increasingly aware of that gnawing hunger, clawing at the back of your throat for what's behind door number 2. flourescent lights sing ( Read more... )