12:45 a.m.

bitter happiness
just like a year ago, I taste the ending just as things begin.
just like the memory of his mouth, which lingers, gently tonguing the corners of my mind. his hands, only willing to touch me during and after physical intimacy. there is the feeling that I could pick his brain clean, bathe in his honesty, be as intimate as one can possibly verbally be-- and still nothing can compare to him wordlessly holding me.
waking up, my face wet from our heat. indentations on my skin from our awkward placement on the futon. and my emotions, all a-tumble and so beautiful.
these things I never thought I'd touch. dreams I didn't realize were attainable, but unconsciously fought for all the same.
because the way he looks at me when we kiss, the way he talks to me afterwards, it is still the same as when he won't touch me. somehow I am changed though, and his tenderness shocks me.
that is why I will do this, even though the acidic tang of failure lingers in my stomach. the weird precognition I have of endings remains. it won't be surprising, it won't be particularly violent, it will just go away. it will fade.
I will move, and he will move on, and the next time I see him we will be back to where we began. only I will know what's missing that time, instead of only conjecturing.
it is sad, but beautiful. I am grateful that we have allowed this to happen at all.
to have helped. to be helped, even when I didn't realize I needed it.
to have a friend like him.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

09:33 p.m.

useless, pointless, heartfelt rambling
the right lyrics at the wrong time and oh, oh I feel it all coming to me. guilt and shame, pain and annoyance. remember me? this is me, this is me remembering you.
paint the outline of a person that I haven't touched for months. fill it with dreams and hopes and words that should have died before they could be spoken. there is no closure. there is only me, saying this. and him, standing there. ignoring me.
I am invisible.
turn your back, hide it all. forget what I was. this is who I am now, it is nothing to you. I am leaving, I am leaving everything behind.
I miss you, but not you as a person. you as a concept.
I think that goes for everyone.

Thursday, March 18, 2004

10:09 a.m.

just a theory
maybe I do know why I do it.
the passion in old love, in real love, grows dim as the years progress. it is worn and comfortable, but not much to write about.
and oh, how I love to write. and feel, and dream (love and hate), and lament, and thrill. I would rather not have to make up my own dramatics to stay interested in my life. it seems better that they come to me.
so I welcome love, because I have so much to give. I welcome the breaking and the mending, the whispers and the silence.
I had a scream once that turned into a whisper but now forever echos. maybe that is part of it now. in some alternate me, there is a life that was lived with that scream. now gone. now fine.
I am forever catching up.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

12:29 p.m.

more ambiguities to rescue my imagination.
a handwritten note, and I am shattered.
a story about unrequited love, a story about change. a dream that won't turn itself off, a dream that keeps repeating. let me tell you a story. let me give away my dreams.
there are some things you don't believe in until they are voiced. some days don't happen until you've explained them. the sky is not blue until I see it, the brick not red until I have touched it.
I might be missed when I am gone, but I won't be here to know.
a handwritten note and I am smiling. I can't believe what has been going on. I must have been dreaming.

Tuesday, March 9, 2004

12:02 a.m.

crazy, so blue
I had a beautiful thought but it was ruined by reality. all the colours just blended but instead of a prism, it turned ugly brown. all colours, no colour.
I dreamt I was larger, but then shrunk. I was bigger than life then suddenly naked. I dreamt I was sitting in a desk and he was there, and I mocked him, and I hated myself for it. I dreamt I was not myself, and in being so, was.
I remembered so many things. I have a terrible memory. it picks up on inconsequentialities. I saw so many things, mostly ones I want to forget. young memories, old memories, from a time when all legs looked the same because they were all I could see, to the certain way my ex would move his mouth, or the way my coworker arches her back.
and I notice these tiny details and I don't want to because they end up hurting so much. the certain slenderness of a person's fingers, the way he holds a pencil. it kills a piece of me. I can't think straight. I can't feel right. everything is a blur but at the same time starkly contrasted from its surroundings.
I feel sick.
there aren't enough words to describe it all.

Thursday, March 4, 2004

01:03 a.m.

pitiful
all night, I wanted you to kiss me.
you were darker than I remembered, your lips just as full, your arms much thinner. I purposely brushed my fingers against your arm while trying to coax your snake into my hands and you did not react.
at one point the tension was tangible, but it passed. it always has. I'm not used to having friends that aren't attracted to me. I'm not used to being slighted, even though I said I wouldn't flirt.
I say so many things I mean to mean, but can never follow through with.
I waited all night for your kiss, then you said you were going to bed and all I could hope for was a clumsy hug.
I hate the way my mind works.

Wednesday, March 3, 2004

03:49 p.m.

and revisited.
I walked past the places we hid to kiss. sat on the bleachers where we talked so I could take a moment to remember. felt the mesh on my back and remembered your voice. the fluttering of your hands when you spoke. your lips.
there are places here that will be forever tainted by our actions. in a month it will be a year since we met. we haven't talked now for the majority of that time.
so I sit now in day light where once darkness hid us. we laughed at the failure of college parking lot skaters and slunk from shadow to shadow, stealing kisses. I remember this place feeling much larger then.
everything was brighter, and our's, and more beautiful than it possibly could have been.
I want to mark all the places we went with an "x" and say "here is where we died a little more."
born to die.
borne to die.

Tuesday, March 2, 2004