i feel so uninspired.

the end.

i'm not unhappy.

i just have a tendency to only write when i feel sad.
when i'm happy, i'm too preoccupied bouncing off walls

(or bouncing around the screen like the colorful dvd screen-saver ball that bounces and bounces and changes colors every time it hits the corner! ooo, mesmerizing.)

and sighing contently at life to stop and write.

tomorrow is going to be good too-
there's the crafts center & fro-yo to be looked forward to!

i eat.

i stuff my face with one fourth of an entire cake. i snack on four bags of beef jerky. i eat and i eat. and i obsess over my weight. and i eat some more. it's just so much easier to concern myself with shallow trivialities than try to decipher the sadness that lurks in my heart.

my teeth hurt from all the chewing.

but better a sore jaw
than a sore heart, hey?

you don't know about my past, and

i don't have a future figured out
and maybe this is going too fast
and maybe it's not meant to last

with him, i was all about taking chances,
i was so ready to jump, i wanted to jump.

but what do you say to taking chances,
what do you say to jumping off the edge.

i just,
i don't feel it,
like i did with him-
i don't feel like we're standing on the edge of something big,
something painfully, fearfully, wonderfully beautiful,
something.

i'm sorry i had you take a chance on me
again.

add to favorites

my favorite meal with some of my favorite breakfast foods with some my favorite people. my favorite class. my favorite jenna. some of my favorite froyo with my favorite berries. a run with my favorite savior. sitting on the floor playing my favorite purple guitar singing some of my favorite songs.

favorite-
what a great word.

what a great day,
a blessed day :)

Still Writing.

Legs move. Stiffly across the linoleum they drag their wooden heels. The author bends to his table and lowers to his chair. His eloquent hands grip the table and he tucks himself in. He stares ahead, searching the curtains for words, and does not watch as his fingers move to rest on their keys unsupervised. His fingers drum out impatience on the keys but not hard enough to bring any words into existence. He begins. His left pinky holds down the shift key as he generates his first capital letter. Letters slam onto the page, dizzy and disoriented. His brows furrow. He hesitates, then reaches for the paper. The paper does not resist as it is torn out and balled up in hands that spurn its contents. The cold linoleum accepts the author’s offering. He closes his eyes, rolls back his shoulders, pulls himself up straight against the back of the chair. He balls up his fists then stretches out those ten individual fingers, putting as much distance between them as possible, a huddle and break. His fingers are ready now to tame the keys they ride into eloquence. They begin to type. Brows furrow. Frustrated, fingers dance, no, stomp across the keys and spawn cacophonous nonsense. With a rip and a crunch, the author restores the silence.

tonight is just one of those nights adorned with nostalgia

i miss sassoon park. i miss sitting on couches eating candy with my best friend. i miss my best friend. i miss SAS. i miss the dynamics of our relationships. i miss the phone calls. i miss the songs. i miss tigger. i miss aurora. i miss taxis. i miss the mango drink. i miss the park.

how can anyone who doesn't even carry a hint,
a trace, even a whiff of the world that is my life-
that was my life-
that is my life-
ever be enough?

on the other hand,
is that the reason i feel like you alone are enough,
like no one else could compare-
because you alone are embellished
with the city and the years i love the most?

i feel like i'm settling

in so many different ways.

i'm not where i'm supposed to be.
i'm not where i want to be.
i'm going through the motions.
i'm committing to what is easy.

i close my eyes,
cover my ears,
sing la-la-la-la-la-
there's nothing more,
nothing better.

i'm in denial.

and i sit and quickly write this down,
before i convince myself otherwise again.

i can't have him-
this is better than nothing.

is this better than nothing?