NOV13.08

Today was OK. not an epic good day. those come once in awhile. they can't be expected all the time.

______________________ WHY? i want to know why ______________

why why why why why why why why why

? i hate the big question mark that is my brain right now.

i promise to write more often.

it could be the only thing that can keep me sane. The Only Thing.

No, I'm wrong, there's probably

more things.

Be a closed book, please?

and buy some pens that fucking work.

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DEC28.08

i open this journal for the first time since December 18 (so, ten days) and at the same moment i receive a text message from him. Filthy. I have been doing nothing these days. lounged around at Leigha's last night. I wish there were more to say, something I could write that could be exciting to read later. this hair is itching me, my face. my bedroom is satisfying. we'll see how long it lasts. why do i feel the need to change it so much? walking towards my dark bedroom, anticipating the moment when i turn on the light and the arrangement is completely fresh, new and clean, making me feel fresh, new and clean.  i think about space and the effect it has on me all the time. if i am not happy with my space, my bedroom, my sanctuary.. then it is an itch under my skin for hours and days until something is done, when a step has been taken in the right direction. i am eager for the day when this journal is completed. when it is accomplished. that is happiness. until i start another one.

i need to let go more. i haven't cried in awhile. i feel like i need a good cry or else i will turn into a robot or a vegetable that only has opposable thumbs to show the world of people who also have opposable thumbs.

i want to cry.

he didn't even text back. WTF

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

what an annoying little bitch. i feel like painting. it's 11:47 pm, on the verge of being December 29. The plan is:

1) Paint in this, here, journal

2) watch 21 Grams

3) cry.

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