hide your feet

I don't know why this makes me so upset. Actually I do. It's because it's conclusive proof that everyone is lying to me. Everyone who's told me one thing was really thinking the other thing and I was just waiting for one person to prove it and now that someone has it's all fucked up.

im so mad im considering deleting the blog

im so mad im considering writing in my livejournal in an airport

This can't last. This misery can't last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long. They'll come a time in the future when I shan't mind about this anymore. But I can look back and say quite peacefully and cheerfully how silly I was. No, no I don't want that time to come hither. I want to remember every minute, always, always to the end of my days.

i'm trying so hard

A Dog After Love
Yehuda Amichai

After you left me
I let a dog smell at
My chest and my belly. It will fill its nose
And set out to find you.

I hope it will tear the
Testicles of your lover and bite off his penis
Or at least
Will bring me your stockings between his teeth.

You’d think we would have had enough
of one another
after all the rain streaming down these windows,
the walks out to the garden when it clears,
the same yellow and white flowers,
all the sleepless nights –
the toy car going in circles on the bed table.

But still, you stay perched on my shoulder,
cricket or bluebird,
wild parrot digging your claws into my loud shirt.

Is it because I do not pester you
with the invisible gnats of meaning,
never release the whippets of anxiety from their crates,
or hold up my monstrous mirror,
a thing the size of a playing field?

Whatever makes you stay,
I hate to think of that morning
when I will wake up to find you gone,
heading toward the open sea,
dragging the cables that bound us together,
leaving me with nothing more to say.

But don’t get me wrong.
It’s not that I cannot live without you,
cannot sit under an ordinary green tree
with no desire to reach for the pen in my pocket,
or lie contented on a couch all day,
one hand over my mouth.

It’s not like I have a crush on you
and instead of writing the five paragraph essay
I am sailing paper airplanes across the room at you –
It’s not that I can’t wait for the lunch bell
to see your face again.

It’s not like that. Not exactly.

ex fuckin actly

IM SO ANNOYED AT YOU

i will not go drinking this weekend
i'm going to hide and be all alone and smoke in the tub and read

uncool- mieces

im invisible

please please please forgive me, good karma starts at midnight.

i feel like everyone i know is lying to me and im suddenly very paranoid

everyone is fucking someone or getting fucked and happy and pledging a frat and jay is still dead.

all i can do is move on from here

also, your face looks like a rock of crack and you kiss like you're 7

you havent the least fucking idea what character is, you idiot

it really makes me feel way better that the counciling services line is busy. that really helps, thanks. also, thanks for not calling me back about the tremors and impending death i'm experiencing. way to be on top of things, guys.

please please please please please telll me it gets better, this cant possibly be it