"A writer must collect valuable experiences so they can write about them later. The more dangerous an experience is, the more valuable it is."

Clipped wings. I feel molested and incomplete. Unwhole. Is that a word? It should be.

Fucking Josiah and our fucking retardation. We CANNOT have a funtional relationship. I thought we weren't even taking this seriously. What the fuck ever, I am so sick of dealing with this shit. It's so much easier to love him from far away.

I hope his parents and relatives are reading this. Let me lay it all out in the open: YOU FUCKING SUCK AT RAISING CHILDREN. Both of you, Josiah's parents, have FAILED to teach him ANYTHING about how real relationships work. You raised an emotionally stunted son, a slutty misguided daughter, and what's looking to be a repeat of the latter. Keep shielding your eyes from the truth, maybe they'll all grow up to be just as miserable as you two are.

I sincerely hope they've gotten whatever they wanted out of trying to kill their children's chances of being sincerely happy and successful in ways they themselves never were. They deserve AIDS for all the top-notch parenting they've done.

Your teeth believe
That teeth are for tearing
Tear into me
And the scent of you sweating

He's flipping me shit about how I don't sympathize with him. I'm thinking to myself, did I ever? I can't remember a single time where he ever tried to share his problems with me before he moved here. He even went out of his way to avoid talking about them. And then I try to show interest in ANYTHING involving him, and he tells me his childhood prevents him from accepting I care. Lovely! He sucks at the communication game, and I suck at the caring game.

I keep myself overweight because he finds me less attractive this way. That's how vindictive I've been feeling in the last three months. Fuck looks. I hope I turn him off.

FUCK SO ANGRY GOD I JUST WANT TO KILL EVERYONE RIGHT NOW

Like a thousand miles of fire

*sighs*

I wish someone had the balls to just leave already.

Was thinking to myself that if Josiah died, I think I'd go marry Chris and run off into the woods like I always said. Or maybe I'll do that if we separate. Split. Divide.

I pour it all out here for everyone to see. You see what real love does? It HURTS. If you're in love, fucking leave them and save yourself bleak years of uncomfortable uncertainty.

FUCK LOVE.

Josiah, I'm so tired. I'm so tired inside, can't you see it every time you look at me? Aren't you tired? Don't you just want to sleep for centuries?

Swollen and small is where you'll find me now
With that silver stripping off
From my tongue you're tearing out

I massively updated my secret journal. Lots of conquests to add, lots of updates.

I hate Chris for introducing us. I hate me for answering his first IM. I hate me for taking him back after that stupid cunt.

GOD DAMMIT.

Maybe you were right
But baby I was lonely
I don't wanna fight
I'm tired of being sorry

I'm standing in the street
Crying out for you
No one sees me
But the silver moon

What a potentially strange night cut short by slow thinking.

Further from them
Further from home

Full of words I can't pronounce.

Don't talk
They don't understand

And a feeling I can't name.

The sky will drop
The night into our hands

But these are days we dream about
When the sunlight paints us gold
And this apartment could not be prettier
As we dance up there alone

The tape's on rewind, hold on to your trousers.

Natalie gave me her phone number. She's cute, but has a boyfriend. I think I could seriously fall hard into renai with her. Just watching her talk makes me kind of fuzzy, anything she says feels like a blanket wrapping around me. She's so soft and nice to sit with.

Ben and I shot the shit for lack of anything better to do. We held down the A button, ate teriyaki and yakisoba and I explained to him in a nutshell why I kept calling Josiah my roommate. He tried to give me a lot of advice that I shot down repeatedly, but he wasn't pushy about it, just... full of things to say I guess. He's alright. I don't suppose we'll get along much outside of work though. Not many of us will anyway. Makes me wonder whether they're going to ask me back.

And this tv's old
The color's fucked
Do you see the difference in the shades?
But the green's still close to green, my love
And I believe we are the same

Josiah and I are doing okay. I told him I don't want things to be as serious between us, it ends up with a lot of hurt feelings and this way everything bad between can roll off my back better. Also I can figure myself out more. I really don't know what I'm doing.

I mean what I'm doing with others, not myself. I know myself sort of okay. I don't really know how to treat everyone else. I don't even know what to say about my uncle having more kinds of cancer than cigarettes he's smoked these last 40 years.

And we’ll stay like this
All gold and green

I can't wait for winter. You guys have no idea how buzzed I am at the thought of Christmas.

Light collects and projects
Your heart on a movie screen
And if you close your eyes
We will always be
The way we were that night
You crawled inside of me
And you slept in my blood
The way you sleep now

I'm feeling about zero need or want to smoke cigarettes anymore. Not my thing I guess. Maybe just when I'm upset. Not really even then, just an automatic reaction of wanting to poison myself when in dire circumstances.

Ugh. I've decided to enter NaNoWriMo again. AGAIN! Why do I torture myself like this?

I think I have a better idea this year. It has to do with a guy who's paid to burn things down. I've tentatively given it a classic title of the ages that will have hordes of the masses rushing to their local corporate chain bookstore to purchase this fine masterpiece-in-progress: The Worst Novel in the History of the Universe.

What do you think?

Every day is mostly the same
As it is, growing weaker is okay
But without knowing why
I raise my eyes to the sky
Boys and girls
Delusions of perfection
They laugh because they have finally
Seen through their emotions
It isn't seriousness
That isn't seriousness

I don't know what to do about my crazy life. I both await and deplore taking a break from work. I take all the overtime I can, I do good work, I lead with a firm touch, I try to keep everything together at home. The cats are fed, the bills are paid, everything has grown a homeostasis that I don't know whether I'm pleased about.


For instance
For example
If one time we were reborn
Another life
For sure another life
To meet you
To be able to meet you by chance
In the winter that suits you so well

You get so used to everything up in the air that one thing falling into place, one right thing, one good thing seems foreign.

How many years have I been waiting
Even though nothing has begun to fall?
I will hold your heart's missile in my arms
And let's go