sprawling.

I keep forgetting that I'm 18, and that things don't have to move as fast as I usually intend for them to. I'm ahead with no motivation, so the goal is to take it easy and work on creating.

At this point, I'm starting to come to terms with how ridiculous my family is. Both the state of the family unit as well as all of the individuals.
My grandmother passed away several weeks ago, and no one knew until yesterday.
It's severely disappointing to realize that a person's death can go unnoticed, especially by those considered their family.

It felt fucking incredible today.
This is Peter.



Last weekend, Dallas and I rode up to Milton for a corn field maze. Dallas was taller than the corn & we went on some trails in the dark.


Things, lately, have been pretty steadily decent. I'm working on being more okay.


Next week:
house/dogsitting; fair; Carson's birthday stuff; living-room/bedtent.

thursday: coupledom; wingnight with peter
friday: weld, pound, solder, skivvie-clad-tea-making
saturday: drinks, build-your-own-taco-bar, brownies, videogames, sitting on top of kurt's refrigerator, peter & ash & kurt
sunday: adventure-river-time with dallas and ash

portishead + moby + sangria.
yesterday, I skipped class, drank wine by myself, and cleaned my desk.


I talked to Dallas about everything. About dating Peter now.
Even though things never fell into place with us, he's still pretty damn significant to me and I think we both acknowledge it. Things just don't happen sometimes.

I need to overcome this illogical fear of everyone leaving me.

I haven't taken any photos lately. It's pretty weird.

_{two years ago?}

uneasy.

I have a date tonight with a boy who seems nice and good and sincere. He's charming. He doesn't smoke or do drugs. He's had his share of conflict. He has a strong and gentle touch. He's a computer science major. I don't know why I feel comfortable with him. around him.

But, I'm looking at the pictures from the flickr account linked to Brandon's iphone.
He's always in the back of my mind, and I don't think that it is going to go away.

I want someone to stick around.

I think that the things I like most about others are the bits that set them apart.
The habits and details that separate them from me.

I am really. really. really. happy right now.
He's an incredible person.

What I keep of you I keep in my stomach

where it is easiest to feel empty,
easiest to feel full.

After everything, don't we get
to assign our organs these metaphors?

Because something inside the body gathers
each loss, contains it.

Call it the heart's debris, all that we
let go of that lodges elsewhere:

Between lungs, in duodenum,
sleeping dormant in clavicle spoon.

I wouldn't be surprised if part of me is in your spleen.

History doesn't go anywhere,
just instills patterns into what must be

the musculature of memory—
hippocampus, thalamus, stomach, ribs.

Our bodies are crowded
with the pieces of other people

we carry with us from room to room.
Behind our knees they knot and cinch

ligaments to our previous lives,
mapping each way home.

--allison titus



i would like to make
love to you with my forehead

pressed to your naked waist. with my platelets pulsing in
your veins.

--george wallace

yesterday's fist-pump count: 3.
today's "FUCK MORNINGS UGH" count: well over 50.

I require sleep.
Need to do sketches.
Hanging out with Peter this weekend.
Must curb mtn dew consumption.

I've successfully made the jump from terrible, depressing dreams every night to creepy, stalker-esque dreams.

Not that I'm not thankful for the jump, but man, my subconscious has some ridiculous ideals and wants.

I don’t just want your heart. I want your flesh, your skin and blood and bones, your voice, your thoughts, your pulse and most of all your fingerprints, everywhere.

— Isobel Thrilling

I hung out with someone new today, and it went ridiculously well.
This was the best day that I've had in a really long time.

*currently more unstable than before.

it's a lot like waking up.

*sleeping pills are great.

I hadn't slept for two days.
At a point I started seeing things from dehydration.
His face was in my pillow and I'd reach out to touch it but it wouldn't be him.
I feel like my back is a space heater, and my hands are ice cubes.
I wake up with tears, which turn sobs.
All of those years, and I never did a thing.
I was too selfish. Wanting him to love me, when I could have done something because I loved him.

Brandon died.
He was at my house a few days ago and I saw that he needed help. And I could have done something, anything to have helped prevent it.
He meant so much to me.
I loved him very, very much.

Ive spent the past 12 or so hours between sobbing and staring into nothing.


…I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.
— Haruki Murakami

I kinda wish that the butterflies in my stomach would die.

My favorite modern photographers were in Pensacola, but I was too much of a pussy to email them and see if I could meet them.

Fuck.
FUCK.