Feel fear. Feel it rising the hackles up inside your mind like an insidious worm wriggling away beneath the hairs of your skin. Fear moves you, like heat, fire, anger, passion, strife and despair.

I haven't felt love. I mean I have felt love, just not the intensity of love that comes from love being reciprocated, i guess. But what disturbs me a litle is how anger moves me to that happier place. Te anger does not cause the happiness, the emotion does. It lets me feel something strong, something intense, and myself being a stranger to the wide variety of hallucinogens, it's the best I can do. But what a rush man, good times. It's just sad this is all I got, sad isn't the right wod, it's just... empty, hollow, a statement. This is all I have, and I like it. So ultimately not so bad.

Welcome to fantasy he heard, from a place far beyond what he could see.

He drifted, listlessly upon an ocean of his own thought, wandering the darkened echoing shadows of his mind until he entered wavering seas of open fields, flowers, petals alight in the gentle sunlight of morning. He was here, he was there, he was in a dream, long while the cold winter storm outside his window billowed and blew like the whispering rush of indifferent skies in the silent darkness above.

He was going to float here, in his mind, in his memory, in his thoughts in his feelings until the world around him swallowed whole, until life could begin to match the world he imagined in his own mind, r until something better could cocur. And until then he would be lost and alone in the confines of his skull, movement to movement, foot to foot, petal uon petal beneath a placid yellow sky.

Okay so a girl has been appearing in my dreams that I do not know, have never seen before but is quite nice and kind of cool and in the dream she seems to be in one of my classes, but is clearly not in real life. Bizarre.

What are you up to?
Cutting fingernails.


Mistakes hurt twice the second time around

Far from sexy.

My thighs touch
My stomach hangs out like a belt distended and large
My chin does not exist.

This is who I am?
I am not ugly.
I am ugly.
I am not ugly.
But I am far from sexy.
So far from sexy
So far from being with someone without the titters of
Gasp, look
Look at that
Look at him.
What is that
So far from being with you, and not bringing you shame.

So not, so not something to be proud of .
So far from sexy.
I can live like this.
I can’t live with someone like this.
Too cruel, too sad, too humiliating
Seen with me.
Is that he, miserable ugly
Fat by beautiful.

I don’t want to be that person.


I hate myself.

She came in through the door. Small, young, beautiful, elegant as any 20 year old could be. Pushed through the door, fell into his arms, her lips pressed against his, her dress floating away like wisps of smoke on the wind, she melted into him, loving him, desiring him, and hten as soon as she’d appeared she vanished, replaced only by the shallow grope of a hand against the nothingness of his apartment, chopsticks still clutched in his fingers. He opened his eyes again, disappointedly straightening up his position. This was all, he thought ruefully. But, in a small twinge of hopeful silliness, he put the chopsticks in the paper box of Chinese food and set it down on the table, his robe draping around his knees. He strode up to the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, and then with a quick yank, pulled it open.

Of course, she was not there. Disappointed, he closed the door again. turning back to his kitchen table, he flipped through the newspaper, his eye pawing over where he’d cut out the coupon for Chinese food that he was now eating.

Pregnancy

Pee.

Shake

Wait.

She counted out the seconds. Her periods had stopped, this much she knew. A month, and they had disappeared. Now the scattered husks of empty pregnancy test boxes laid scattered on her bed, pink and purple labels done up in elegant florid cursive with exclamation marks joyously enthusing ‘Pregnancy!’ all along the outside. They were the only place where joy was to be found in the room. The egg timer dinged, the small plastic dial clicking into place with the cheap plastic click of objects purchased under a median price range. She ran over to the sink and picked up the small plastic stick.

It wasn’t there yet. But slowly, surely, with the inevitable creeping of a glacier the pink dots slowly filled in. Dot, dot, dot, a dot off of the central minus sign, and then another, until finally the entire symbol was filled in: a plus. She turned the stick over in her hands, rotating the small cylinder with her thumb and forefingers. Her reflection looked up at her in the mirror, stared back with worried, sallow eyes, and then turned towards the door and moved back into her bedroom. She fell into the cold, stiff sheets of her comforter, the soft bounce of the mattress pushing her up a few inches before she finally settled down onto the bed. She stared blankly at the ceiling, thoughts swirling through her head. Over on the bedstand, her cellphone sounded out a small rattle as it vibrated on the table. She picked it up and took a look at what it said. “WELL?” it asked in large block letters. It was her sister. She flipped the phone open to the keypad, then flipped it close again, thumbing her fingers over the cold plasticine sheen of the touchscreen.

She let her arms fall to her sides and her phone dropped limply out of her hand, careening gently off the side of her bed and falling to the floor with a muted clatter. Well she thought. Her expression changed, and then she thought it again, a heavier tone in her mind, Well. She stared up at the blank whiteness of her ceiling, the faint up-side down mushroom shape of her ceiling lamp and lost herself into the emptiness, the cold muted pastels of the grey afternoon sky, the dank sodden rain that poured down around her as she imagined her room filling up with water until she swam around in the depths, swimming and drowning like a fish. She ran her fingers over her stomach, running her fingers underneath her shirt, feeling up and down along the contours of her navel. How odd, she thought to herself. She continued staring at the upside-down mushroom. It had as many answers as she did, she thought to herself ruefully. She didn’t want to get up. So for a few more minutes, she continued staring at the ceiling, the soft pastel greys of the overcast sky filtering softly through her window.