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Nov. 13th, 2013

(no subject)

i have no plans to go back to using this regularly, but i felt this was worth documenting.

i feel alive, like a kid. 'cause i met someone who likes me and is like me and gets me and has me. there are already so many stupid poetic details, which i have finally grown up enough to leave out. i never meant to feel anything beyond physical whateverness, but here we are.

i don't know if i've ever been this happy.

Aug. 16th, 2013

(no subject)

when i am with you, the void answers back.

Apr. 18th, 2013

(no subject)

i miss you and how you always know the answer
and that you are cold and warm and always moving
your body and crawling out of it and expressing
every last thing with your face and playing
dumb and telling stories and existing
in front of me likely ignorant to the fact that
i am a corpse, i am a glass bowl, i am a child
i am myself inside out, ever moving to keep from
being pulled any deeper into these tides
listening learning plotting planning dreaming
of a way to breathe your air for longer than i am allowed

Jan. 31st, 2013

(no subject)

it's too much (or not enough) to say "i'm here, come find me". i keep my sap on the inside, but i still feel something when i'm watching netflix alone. i suppose the logical question would be what right do i have? it's not so easy. everyone's been lied to, or maybe it's just me. some kind of magical mutuality, something to share, and appreciating the sharing without thinking about it too much. i get so bored, but tonight's haunted. i watched "paper hearts", season 4. i always get scared, but i like it. i'd like if everything could just last as long as it lasted. no awkward, fearful cutoffs. no dragging corpses onto dance floors. the wind is very loud, and it's very dark out, and i am very lonely. i'm here, come find me.

Jan. 10th, 2013

(no subject)

i told him he was beastly and he hated me for it.

all along, though, it wasn't him. he was the same as ever--a boy overcome by how well he understood every single sensation happening around him all of the time--unable to handle his own life in the midst of everyone else's living.

the beast, it would seem, was me. aware of what it means to be The Way I Am, and desperate to shake it, lest i miss this phantom train, i pretended to be appalled and insulted. but here i am, the same monster who might've broken his heart one teenage night and left the pieces in the desert. when i think about it like that, the hate seems justified.

i like who i am, now, but it isn't become i've become more virtuous, or disciplined, or 'together'. it's only because i've learned to embrace my own beastly ways and stop striving for anything more legitimate.

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November 2013

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