Thursday, December 13, 2001

People can be so stubborn with their IGNORANT thoughts. I'm guilty of this, too, but... fuck.

Get over it

Tuesday, December 11, 2001

If I were a work of art, I would be Edvard Munch's The Scream.

I express the subconscious troubles and anxieties of the world. I hold my head and let loose the primal terror of my innermost fears, surrounded by a lurid landscape which reflects my feeble grasp on reality.

Which work of art would you be? The Art Test

I'm definitely going to purchase my dress today. I must. And... if Jan flakes out there will be some major butt-kicking coming from me. :-D So, if you're reading this Jan-y boy, phone me (unless we're already at the mall, or something). Haha, I make no sense.

It's weird calling you Jan. Why'd you start going by that anyway? To seem more white? Remind you a bit of LoAnne? Hahahaha. Just kidding. Much love, much love... [I'm turning so ghetto. It's quite scary]. Peace out.

Sunday, December 09, 2001

It's time for random, spur of the moment poetry.

i wish i could feel
i wish i could see
i wish i had the audacity to taste the salt water
i wish i could just be
i wish i would feel remorse, jealousy, deceipt, everything bad
i wish i had what i wanted
it wouldn't be what you think, though
it would be something different, something so beautiful
that only a lucky few can see or care
what's so great?
everything.
they are not attractive
it's all relative
i wish we would talk
i wish we could have the potential to
i wish i stopped becoming her
i wish others would understand
there are different levels of love
1:// i love it when people say i'm interesting
2:// i love chocolate
3:// i love you
fuck if i knew it all.

I just typed that all out. Damnation. I'm so confused... that... I don't know. I know what I want, I know what I can't have, and I know what wants me. You're such a lovely guy but it doesn't take so much to get all there is out... all the dirt and all the sludge.

So everybody came. But you're here to have some fun. And everyone's the same. Well that's faster said than done.
Well, my relationship is ova. Done with. Finito. All that good stuff. I'm happy because it frees my emotions and makes me just... more... open, yet I'm upset because I'm not sure exactly of what went wrong (she's oh so vague -- "I just don't think it's right for us... right now," or something equally as boring). I'm still confused about my feelings. I like her, I hate her, I wish we were together, I wish she'd fly away to the moon... it's just all so complicated. The thing I most care about now is if we'll still remain friends. Oh, why must I be so goofily caring? It's pretty silly how sweet I am in certain situations...