maybe until our hands reach out and we fly anti gravity boots straight up to the moon and beyond stretching for each other as we go our separate ways only to meet again will we be together.
certainly after the money under the mattress has dissolved into our dead skin that pools and becomes dust will our children find us holding hands, the chicken carcass sitting in the stove from the last time i tried to cook you dinner.
we will take walks together, even though right now you hate them, and when i start to go blind and demented you will remember my passion for the written word and in your gravelly worn voice will read me volumes of poetry you don't understand.
across the universe we will sing our wedding song that i have secretly chosen, and i will dissolve into cackling laughter leaving you to be the strong one.
or maybe i am the strong one and i don't know it yet- i have a tendancy to float on when all i want to do is drown, and maybe it will be you that needs me, stricken with grief or cancer or something even more morbid.
i'm sorry, i think of these things.
i would put down my pen, and pick up the baby, and learn to make the best mashed potatoes you ever had -even better than your mothers- and we would become one person under the fool moon as our baby becomes a graduate and builds his own nest.
today and tomorrow, shaky as they are, give way to a future in which there is only you and me, only forever, here and now.

Ii’m just going to ramble about my life/whats going on in my head right now and if you don’t like it then don’t read it. I don’t mean that rudely at all, I just mean if you don’t like it there isn’t any reason to keep reading and then treat me like shit because you didn’t like the things I said.

I got a new tattoo the other day, it is my second. It says “find your freedom in the music, find your jesus, find your cupid.” The lyrics are from ‘dance in the dark’ and they mean a lot to me because its about loving yourself and being yourself when people are trying their best to put you down. I am thinking of getting “in the religion of the insecure, I must be myself, respect my youth” either underneath or on the other side.

Well I got it on my ribs and it hurt so bad but in that satisfying way like when I used to hurt myself. I started thinking back to when it was really bad. One time I slammed my arm so hard against the metal banister… it left this huge bruise that hurt so bad. But it hurt so good. Pain that I’ve inflicted on myself has always felt so amazing. Isn’t that sick to say? Is it wrong? I know. But I don’t care. I do my best these days to stay away from harm that I myself can prevent. I don’t slam myself around, I don’t do much like that anymore. I slipped up a few weeks ago. I’m fine.

I’m getting fat though. And I hate it. Everyone makes fun of me for eating too much but I am constantly starving and i don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying to eat less but that makes me hungrier and then I end up eating so much to make up for it and I feel like a fat piece of shit.

In my mind I am one person and to everyone on the outside I seem like someone completely different. Who am I to you? the snob? The know it all? goody two shoes? You don’t know me. So fuck off. There’s a tattoo. FUCK OFF right on my forehead.

I miss things. I miss lisa frank. I miss sticker collections. I miss everything and nothing at all. I miss having a girlfriend. There;s so much I’ve yet to do that I want to and time keeps swooping away. I barely know you but I want you.

it's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring....
except he's not. my aunt and her son and her dog are here, and it seems as if my family is now 20 people in one house and i don't like it. i like quiet, i like peace. i like being alone and not feeling lonely. i wish i had my own home where i could thrive. i want to grow flowers on the windowsill and stack my books by color. there would be a cabinet in the kitchen devoted to tea and honey. my fridge would be full of fruits and veggies and water.
i'd light candles on days like this- rainy sundays because when i have my own home, i'll hopefully soon after have a job where i'm off on weekends. and i'll wake up early and clean the house and wash my clothes and bedding, and shower, just so i can get into a clean bed with my clean body and clean pj's and read a book or two. i'd paint my bedroom red, and the living room cerulean. the kitchen would be tiffany blue, and the dining area would be purple. i don't even have to close my eyes and i just see my sanctuary in front of me so close i could touch it if i could just reach a litttttle farther.

what;s your safe space like?

well, i must have been seriously ill
because i was going to text you and say what?
say i miss you?
say you should forgive me?
what did i even do that i need to be forgiven for?
i did what i always do.
i ran away.
i know i made the right decision, but it still bothers me.
i wish i could be the one to tame these men like wild horses, but is it right to pin people down like butterflies and spread out their wings in a frame, a cruel punishment for something that will never fly again.
but- who am i kidding?
you aren't a wild horse, or a butterfly.
you're a pig.
wait- not a pig. pigs are intelligent as a 3 year old human child. we can train them to do math and video games. and they roll in the mud because it CLEANS them. so why do we call men who have wronged us pigs?

so  went outside and had a cigarette
shoot me, i know my friends will.
i would shoot myself if i saw me standing there,
but these days i want to feel nothing more than anything.
all i feel is pain and fear. i feel like nothing is possible.
my body isn't mine, there is nothing i can control.
money is evil and it makes me sad because everything i want and need requires it.
how did i get on the subject of money?

everything we did together was confusing.
cuddling on the couch watching movies.
you told me to open my soul to you,
i shut the door on your foot.
that night where you tried to kiss me and i actually pushed you away.
i think now of that night going differently.
i often think of me being different.
going after what i want and what i need.
driving a fucking car.
finding a better job.

she is what i loathe and want to be simultaneously.
so fuck it.
fuck me.