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:: 2008 17 November :: 11.26 pm

the dawn will not come so i will have to find a way to go to it.

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:: 2008 7 November :: 12.05 am

oh my

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:: 2008 3 November :: 3.31 pm

one day, thank you very much, and i realize that all i can do is my very best
that if these "things" or whatever they are get to be too much for me, that I stop and come here, or go there, or be anywhere, but I don't have to be anywhere that I don't want to be.
and what a simple fact
that is so lovely just to say aloud
or to type
i don't have to be anywhere or do anything
and i can watch the sun rise yellow and orange and beautiful the day after halloween,
i can sleep all day afterward.

and i can love so brightly
breathing inoutinout
softly
as if i were sailing away for a very long time.






i have a new favorite poem, called "The Subverted Flower" by Robert Frost.

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:: 2008 2 November :: 7.56 pm

i hate this as a means of communication
because now there is nothing for me to unburden my nothing into.
it seems that this pitter patter will pull the worst from me
that my heart strings are still attached to my past
and i cannot be anything more than what i was.
it seems that my life is a series of yes, no, yes,
and activities
and wanting. especially wanting.
and i am not articulate enough to express what is in my heart or my brain or from wherever this ache originated,
i do know that i just want to cry and play The Sims 2, and never go to class, and be kissed lovingly, and loved lovingly under a sweet and sewn blanket,
all that i can hear is Joe's frustrated voice, "Get out of your comfort zone!"
in the comedy aisle at 11 PM on a saturday.

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:: 2008 30 October :: 8.09 pm


today a bunch of kids came to the dorms to trick or treat. everyone dressed up, decorated the hall, and turned off all the lights. it was so fun and the kids, most of them anyway, were very cute. the other ones just took the candy and ran. :) hooray for the youth of america!

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:: 2008 29 October :: 3.43 pm

the nights are hardest.

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:: 2008 15 October :: 1.30 am

to my dearest journal,

i have an insulin imbalance. it is why my periods are always late and why my knuckles are brown.

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:: 2008 14 October :: 2.27 am


i am so tired

i hate studying and i hate JU and i hate that i am stuck here without hope of transferring anywhere. college is so permanent. at least a tattoo doesn't define my education or career.


i'm glad we at least had a good conversation before you had to leave.

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:: 2008 8 October :: 2.45 am

Silence


'My father used to say,
“Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow’s grave
or the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self-reliant like the cat-
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse’s limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth-
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint.”
Nor was he insincere in saying, “Make my house your inn.”
Inns are not residences.'


-Marianne Moore


beautiful beautiful beautiful.

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:: 2008 1 October :: 11.02 am

hello there.

i hope everything is going okay with you.

15 meters | roll it


:: 2008 30 September :: 1.51 am

the situation has changed and the way backward is shut.

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:: 2008 29 September :: 1.32 am

in the driver's seat at 1:30 in the morning and flying down the highway with that sad sad song penetrating my ears and heart i realized that i am finally in the place where i have always wanted to be and am still so very out of place in my world.

perception is everything.

but there i was perceiving nothing and so here i am, behold. there behind the wheel with tears rolling down my cheeks and joe asking "what's wrong," and me not sure how to answer him but to ask him to please light me a cigarette.

and another thing, i hate smoking but i do it anyway because it makes me unapproachable and gives me something less awkward to do with my hands.

and another thing, i hate video games because i love them so much, because they give my brain a place to rest when people like ben goldstein do not think it worthy for them.

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:: 2008 16 September :: 7.33 pm

Woohu has decided to stop me from posting comments. I'm not sure if this is due to the Jacksonville server or Woohu's severe and long-awaited downfall. more later.

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:: 2008 15 September :: 12.46 am

the cafeteria is nice, but sometimes i want a hunk of chocolate.

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:: 2008 13 September :: 6.46 pm

despite random and sparse outbursts of elation, i am often struck by the level of cruelty I seem to possess. upon looking through old photos or journals, i realize that most of the close friendships i have ever had have ended on a sour, rotting, despicable note-- this is nearly always my doing and the result of some terrible fight that I was always to cowardly to address after it happened. I miss the closest friends I ever had. These are the the intelligent and pure people who I abandoned because of my own selfishness.

You don't have to talk to me and I'm sure you are laughing quite hysterically at this, but anyway.







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:: 2008 25 August :: 1.18 am

old feelings are nice to have but horrible to bathe in.

college is also nice to have but horrible to bathe in.

forget hot water, i don't need it

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:: 2008 18 July :: 4.02 am

here's a present for you.

http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=-8604596739848246425&hl=en&autoplay=1

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:: 2008 17 July :: 10.12 pm



i was laying in a red and orange tent in the field on the very top of a cliff. there were fields and grass and mountains everywhere. i was waiting for someone to meet me there, but they never came.

so i walked to paris and found myself in a group of children waiting to tour a large and dark cathedral. i saw my childhood friend danny chamberlain and became nervous, so i ran away. while i was running a woman chastised me for the clothing i had on, and i turned around and yelled at her. i kept running, but this time i was only searching for joe and lyle, who i was sure were lost somewhere in paris.

it was all very strange, although i have to admit this is probably my most "normal" dream ever.

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:: 2008 28 June :: 12.53 am

i lost my best friend and

pretty much everything, and i realized that i have learned a few very important things in virginia.

one, that the people who are there for me unconditionally have proven to be my family and to be patrick. patrick who i treated like the worst shit you could step on. and there they are through every storm.

two, that patrick is only there for me because he is in love with me. or rather, the darling boy is in love with who i used to be, and who HE used to be with me. (as it is there isn't much of me to love, and i'm definitely not in any shape to get there. say i'm a flowerpot looking to hold some kind of marvellous species of fauna-- i would be at the point at which the soil requires moisture and fertilization, sans seed. a dry hunk of mass in the receeded shape of the pot around me.)

three, that i am exactly like every other human being, "SCARRED BY LOVE, OHMEOHMY" and can now barely think of the idea withought a shreak of fright and a bought of nausea. oh how surprised a young piscean becomes upon learning that their mental and emotional capacity does not actually exceed that of her fellow humans.




normally i would have expressed all of these ideas in a form much more beautiful than that presented above. as it is, i find myself a flower pot filled with a kind of disgusting dry soil. as dry soil is not a substance one will to draw energy from, you will have to imagine that I am tilting my head to the side and that dirt is pouring out of my inner ear and nose.

as in, i am a skin-sack of dramatic tearful evenings and nothing more.

goodnight moon.

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:: 2008 26 June :: 12.16 pm

when sharapova serves, she bounces the ball a few times, lifts her raquet hand, fixes her hair on one side, then the other, bounces the ball with her hand exactly twice, and serves with a disgusting grunt.

i'm jealous as fuck and it's rather, no, completely infuriating. what's wrong with me.

and what's wrong with me that i'm nothing. i guess i'm reaping reaping reaping what i sow sow sow.

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