artistondeviantart

  There is only one thing I want. Just one desire.     I want something dramatic to happen to me.     Something awful. Something beautiful. Something confusing. I want to realize something. I want to do something. I’m tired of planning. I’m so tired of it.     I see a version of myself, clutching at a perfect person that I don’t know yet, getting pregnant. Maybe getting an abortion. At least it’s happening.     I feel like I’m going to spend so much time making plans. I feel like no matter how much I get done, I won’t be finished. I’m going to die, and I won’t be done. Is t

me and the ambulance after the running start grabbing and grasping the back of the gurney top me and the astronaut let all the guns go off holding me backwards in pleasant heart-stoppingness this is ridiculous this is self-evident albeit concerning me this is irrelevant

I wanna be so independent Store the mail but not the sender Catch the fish I grow for dinner Gut the very angry swimmers But I wanna take my finger to the Sock it to the jaw of Mr. Well Adjusted Sinner, comin' all the way from Texas Taking empinada truck rides What a joke you know they sell drugs To the suckers and stealers, You are both now, twice the Leaver. And it's killing me to leave you out like a package of meat that's gonna go bad eventually, but It's. So. Unrelatable. And, It's. So. Unreliable. I wanna be so independent.

Sept. 3    I never thought I would keep a diary. I am just not the diary-keeping type. I'm not sure exactly what that type is, but I imagine it involves binge chocolate eating and multiple viewings of The Notebook. Which I've never actually seen, but it seems like one of those types of movies that you would watch if you were one of those types of people. Anyways.    I suddenly had the urge to write in this diary Jess gave me because I can't talk to her all the time like I used to. She won't even answer her phone. She probably lost it. Or maybe she's too busy enjoying her new school in Michigan. That's right. Michigan. I don't even know wh

My nose is fizzy In my glass of cancer-causing chemicals I stuck it in there Hoping to tap my tongue into the tan layer of bubbles It was not that fulfilling But, how fulfilling can drinking a can of soda be? The bubbles disappeared As soon as I tasted them, and I was left with a rich, amber half-glass of Coke And I tipped it back And the soda spills down my gulping throat. Sometimes the bubbles just won't do it for you. You need the Coke instead.

I know your type Know them by sight Bashful and slight I know your sum Promise of fun Collapsed in the sun Won't fall for it again Won't leave for it again Here I'm at peace Never again Learning is something you never forget. The only problem is figuring out how to forget what you've learned. And never do it again. But I'll do it. Done it before. I'll do it again. Maybe in a different way. But in the heart of it, it's the same. Comforting. Yet unsettling. Higher percentage of comforting!