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Sunday, February 2nd, 2003

Subject:" have a little help from my friends..."
Time:8:07 am.
You remember, right? {nod your head} You remember running around outside until it was too dark to see the ground in front of you, yeah? Or getting pegged in the arm so hard that there was a bruise there for a week, and the more Mom made a fuss about it the more it became a battle scar trophy? {nod your head} Really?? Cuz I don't. {cock your head to one side and furrow your eyebrows} No really, I never did that. I couldn't. {sideways, single-eyebrow-raised look of disbelief} Okay, well, I guess I could have, but I didn't know how. Thats why I say, or, I've said I didn't have a childhood. But now that I look at it, I guess I had one. It was just different from yours. I never really found dolls fun, but you wouldn't believe the kick I got outta eating oatmeal in the morning. O man, it was so gooey on the tongue, and it made the best sound when you'd drop it from an arms length off the spoon back into the bowl. O yeah, and then there was my baby blanket. Geez, I was content to sit there for hours just running my fingers up and down, up and down that lovely satiny lining. Yeah...that was fun.
Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, February 1st, 2003

Subject:bend matter, destroy time.
Time:5:48 pm.
I used to think that having only a right side was just fine. I saw nothing wrong with it, I'm guessing mostly because I hadn't known any better. I got around efficiently: bend the knee, jump forward, bend the knee, jump forward. I smiled toothily( half-smile, of course ).

Even in a "partial" state, I attended school. It was hard, but I was unaware of the challenge, unaware it could be any easier. One day while walking, er, hopping from one class to the next, I saw a half-person that had something I did not; a left side. That was it. Right there, the answer to everything. A left side. A left side contains a heart, the perfect compliment to my right, my right that so painfully lacked what his left had to offer. I introduced myself. It was nice ( there was no confusion as to which hand to shake with ).

The time between our meeting and our joining is understood to be non-existent; we hardly released the grasp of the first handshake. Two halves had come together, and not even the neglectant world around us could ignore the fact that what once was, is no longer; however much they may try and alter that, they cannot. There is balance ( I now rely on his left-leg to save me from falling off my right-legged pirch).

My right side smiled, and his left couldn't help but do the same.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Tuesday, January 28th, 2003

Time:5:22 pm.
" I'd trade a smoke of fresh air for you."
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, January 11th, 2003

Subject:quick, witty rebuttle...
Time:10:09 pm.
How did I know?
was it something in the air
or something in your voice
that told me it was right?
I guess it doesn't matter now.
How did I know?
was it the words in a fairy tale
or the scribbles in your journal
that dreamed this all up?
I guess it doesn't matter now.
How did I know?
Is it the love of a lifetime
or a lifetime of love
that I am feeling?
I guess it doesn't matter now, because I know.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, January 6th, 2003

Subject:smell those roses. I hate roses.
Time:10:34 pm.
Mood: peaceful.
The walls of this room act as one way tickets
to a place in my mind
that tends to collide
with my heart
at dreadfully inopportune time
times when sleep is the ultimate goal
sleep is the ultimate escape
sleep is ultimately impossible
And the walls of this room fail to contain
fleeting memories of events yet to happen
fail to contain free-flowing wishful thinking with no gound to stand on
fail to contain
pleasing dreams that demand free reign
over constantly tormented terrain
And the walls of this room witness everything.
The floor of this room bears the weight
of my shattered pieces
scattered in predetermined order
ordering me to relive moments of desperation
in the agony of isolation
that you so chose to place me in
And the floor of this room bears te weight
of the guilt
guilty for all this shit i've put you through
and all this time I know you knew
the feelings that I freely brew
cost you your easy sleep
And this floor bears the weight of my remorse.
The chairs in this room fail to provide a place for rest
theres no peace in keeping these whims oppressed
no peace in this state of being unaware
that beating continues within my chest
no peace in siting
when I could be lying next to you
And the chairs in this room offer no sense of comfort
so I'll stand idle for hours
as I scour
the area friutlessly
unable to see
that there is no comfort like what I once knew
as you so comfortingly held me
And the chairs in this room seat too many for comfort.
The windows in this room are inadequate filters
throwing my mind off kilter
as they allow the milkshine from the moon to pour
more and more
liquid into the
resevior supplying me with tears
that remains infinite
And the windows of this room are my eyes to the outside world
allowing me a reminder
that some flowers remain unfirled
some girl's toes never being curled
and simply that there is
in fact
an outside world
at all.
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, January 3rd, 2003

Subject:How is one to know?
Time:10:07 pm.
Where are you now?
I called you last night
you picked up the phone
but didn't answer.
You haven't answered in days.
Where are you now?
I extended my arms
you embraced me
but didn't touch me.
You haven't touched me in days.
Where are you now?
I saw you in the hall
you acknowleged me
but didn't see me.
You haven't seen me in days.
Where are you now?
I screamed out your name in my sleep last night
you turned your head
but didn't hear me.
You haven't heard me in days.

I've never had you, but I miss you.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, December 20th, 2002

Subject:my hands are shriveled...
Time:10:36 am.
what good are these? i call them hands, meant to assist me in tasks in daily life. they fail the purpose.

fuck the purpose.

they are useless here. i stand, blindly begging for assistance. my "hands" have no power over any real obstacle.

fuck the obstacle.

I spit on the brick wall blocking my path to you. run full speed ahead, to no avail;

the wall simply throws its head back and laughs at me, pointing out my shriveled hands.
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, December 13th, 2002

Time:9:35 am.
i am Puddle. look at me. see yourself.

she said, " prove me wrong, I dare you."
he said, " done. "
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Wednesday, December 11th, 2002

Time:10:24 pm.
Mood: amused.
What keeps my hours?
my hours keep?
like dark smoke up a chimney, they sweep
how do I mark passing time in my day
how can I stop and suspend time this way
and I am drifting
without an oar
I don't seem to care
cuz there's nothing worth steering towards
fuck your rythms
your monotony
I hope you don't mind
I trust you don't care
this wasn't meant for me
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, December 9th, 2002

Time:11:36 pm.
Mood: indescribable.
Dear ,
I'm sorry I couldn't hear you like she could.
I'm sorry for not saying what you needed to hear.
or doing what you needed to see.
I'm sorry for when you would fall
and more so for not falling with you
I'm sorry I was unable to stand empty handed in front of you and watch you hurt
I'm sorry if I attempted to curb your pain
I know now that I shouldn't have
I'm sorry for wanting something you weren't willing to give
I'm sorry for not being willing to give some things that you wanted
I'm sory for acting so old
I'm sorry for being so young

Goddamn it, I'm sorry
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Tuesday, November 19th, 2002

Subject:push-up bras and combat boots
Time:10:11 pm.
Androgony. Say it. An-dro-gon-y. It's nice, how it rolls off the tongue and all. My tongue likes the word, but my tongue is also partial to the tongue of another woman. Confused? Maybe. Quite Possibly. But I'd really like to think that its simply a matter of knowing what pleases me, and more importantly, where to find such a glorious thing.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Sunday, September 29th, 2002

Subject:damn the past...
Time:5:12 pm.
Mood: hopeful.
so it ends
an overtuned car blocks a two way street
1 fatality reported
but I drive away
take one look back
and the tires are still spinning

I'm driving to your house
you know I'm coming
but don't know what I'm bringing
you're eager
I'm nervous
my palms sweat

I'm driving to your house
I mouth the words
I'll forget them when the time comes
you're curious
I'm wary
my heart speeds

I'm driving to your house
just singing this song
relating every word to us
you're unprepared
I'm vulnerable
my blood rushes

I need you here and to touch your face tranquility tends to neglect this place I've been following signs and been lost for miles tears don't give way to smiles

so it begins
your overturned car blocks this two-way street
my fatality reported
but you walk away
take one look back
and the tires slow their spinning...
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Tuesday, September 17th, 2002

Subject:a euphoric scent..
Time:8:00 pm.
...I asked him if I could borrow his sweatshirt for the remainder of the day, because I was uncomfortable in the shirt I had on and I knew his over-sized sweatshirt would be very comfy. I wore it home after school and threw it on the loveseat in my room without a second thought. Later on that night I drifted back up to the loveseat and sat down, intent on nothing. I looked over and saw the sweatshirt; I picked it up. And there I sat, for hours, content to be breathing his skin. I smiled, then I cried, then I smiled while crying, until finally I was forced to pull myself away, because whatever pieces of him clung to the cloth had long since been washed away by tears of defeat; defeated by the proven fact that neither God nor Goddess has or will ever create such a euphoric scent again...
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, September 9th, 2002

Subject:Dear Whitney...
Time:10:40 pm.
I once knew a girl who did a lot of walking. She walked everyday. Everynight. Every minute. Walking is all she knew how to do. For a long time she chose to walk with people at her sides. The people she chose were all different types. They wore all different colors, different hats, differnt coats, differnt shirts, but never as many layers as she did. The girl noticed, however, that they were all missing something. The peoples hands would gesture, they would make eye contact, and their mouths would move, but there was never any sound. The girl did not understand why she couldn't hear a word anyone said to her. Lonliness set in, because no matter how many people she surounded herself with, none of them made any sense to her. She became frustrated and angry. The people began to surround her in smaller numbers. One day, no one showed up beside her at all. She walked this way for a long time; or at least it felt like a long time, because when one is by themself, time tends to elongate itself for enertainment purposes. Her path became narrow, and she began to walk facing down. She never looked up anymore, never saw what was ahead of her. Some dateless day, she was walking, as it was the only thing she knew to do, and because she was looking down, missed what was happening. There was a path that crossed hers. Walking on that path was a girl. Another girl, dressed in as many layers as she was, just as alone and pale-faced as she was. Neither of them saw eachother, and as a result, collided at a slow speed. Both girls fell back. A contact was made that The Girl hadn't made in an eternity. Maybe it had never been made at all. But when both girls got over the shock of a simple collision, they looked up, and just as if they had spoken the minute prior, the girl in many layers said, "hello".
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Friday, September 6th, 2002

Subject:I wrote this, Jewel just doesn't know it yet...
Time:3:51 pm.
"I was thinking
that I might fly today
just to disprove
all the things that you say.
Doesn't take a talent to be mean
your words can crush things that are unseen.

So please be careful with me
I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.

You always tell me
that it impossible
to be respected
and be a girl.
Why's it gotta be so complicated?
Why you gotta tell me if I'm hated?

Please be careful with me
I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.

I was thinking that it might do some good
if we robbed the cynics
and took all their food
That way what they believe
will have taken place
and we'll give to everybody who has some faith

Oh please be careful with me
I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.

I have this theory
that if we're told we're bad
then thats the only
idea we'll ever have
Maybe if we are surrounded in beauty
someday we will become what we see
Cuz anyone can start a conflict
it's harder yet disregard it.
I'd rather see the world from another angle.
We are everyday angels.

Be careful with me cuz I'd like to stay that way."
Comments: Add Your Own.

Thursday, September 5th, 2002

Subject:Attn: The Innatentive.
Time:10:04 pm.
" Exuse me?
I think I'mistaking you for somebody else.
Somebody who gave a damn.
Somebody more like myself.
And these foolish games are tearing me,
tearing me,
you're tearing me apart. "
Comments: Add Your Own.

Wednesday, September 4th, 2002

Time:5:04 pm.
Mood: crushed.
Why is it that no matter how much I strive for independance from most everyone and everything, I feel so incomplete in the absense of someone to call my own? The strong woman I would like to be is someone who can stand on her own, without having to grab for a man's hand to keep her from fainting and falling over into a pile of volluntary inferiority on the ground. Unbeknownst to me, thats exactly the type of woman I've been for the last 10 months. Despite my efforts to remain in the comfort of denial, last night the truth was unchained and is currently bobbing at the surface: I must be alone to learn who I am when not depending on a man for reasurance. This won't be hard to achieve, considering I was rejected yet again last night. I'm scared, I'm scarred, I'm ruined, but ready. No more male dependance for me. On that note, no more alcohol dependance for me either. I've got to get down to who I am without the accessory that is a male or a mind alterer, crude and corrupted as it may be, and start from scratch on building a woman I can be proud to be.
Comments: Read 5 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, August 31st, 2002

Subject:no words for this situation, a poem from the past will have to suffice
Time:10:51 pm.
Mood: working.
Walking, remembering,
been eating orchids
they keep my cheeks rosy
mine by inhertiance

standing, staring
wearing treebark on my bareskin
it brings out the hazel in my eyes
I will take it to my grave

sitting, drooling
been drinking saltwater
keeps my hair shining
I'm taking it to my grave

laying down, drying up
writing with this blade of grass
it animates my words colorfully
I took it to my grave
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, August 30th, 2002

Subject:A lesson for life...
Time:9:39 pm.
Mood: mellow.
an essay for Ms. Kolbmann's class that turned out to be insightful...

The statement “who I am” is really quite an inaccurate statement, because “am” suggests permanence, and who I am changes very frequently. Especially at this age, my personality, as with that of my peers, is constantly shifting. As I learn more about the world outside from either media or the experiences of others in my life, my opinions and morals are altered, if not replaced completely by new ones.
Many things have influence on what molds what I call myself, some more than others. Of course current events in the news and the media have an impact my ideals, but I now know that it’s the people in my life that effect me the most. In the earlier stages of my life, my parents had the largest impact on my thoughts and beliefs. Other family members such as my grandmother and my aunt had a large influence on who I was becoming. Now, however, I realize that it’s the relationships I’ve made outside the family that are effecting who I am and who I’m becoming most drastically.
It’s only appropriate that since my friends have the most influence on me, that they and they’re opinions matter the most as well. Consequently, I find it to be crucial that the people going to be influencing me so strongly should be chosen wisely. Although I may sound very confident in all this information, I have not known it for a very long period of time. I only became aware of this over this past summer.
Over my summer I realized many things about my group of friends and the special relationships we have with one another. Not only do we have a chemistry between us that is so perfect it must be of the rarest sort, but each is a positive influence on the next. I was so pleasantly surprised to learn this summer that my goal of choosing the right people to surround myself with was not only achieved, but exceeded. They not only met my standards, but set new ones for the people I meet in the future. Regardless of everything that was so pleasing to discover about myself and my friends over the summer, there was something that was far better to learn: Every feeling I have is mutual.
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Thursday, August 29th, 2002

Subject:A poem for...someone??
Time:10:30 pm.
Mood: listless.
I'm requested at your bedside
in the foreground of your painting
you want me where you can see me
and my hands where you can't
My numbers embedded in your fingers
the stain came off your mind in the wash
I hear the words you mean to say
but more clearly the ones you don't
You lie naked on the floor beneath me
I stumble dumbly, fully clothed
I don't know it now, but I will later
theres privacy glass here until I am undressed
Im minutes away from elsewhere
I fear that you won't join me
But by running away
would i be turning you on?
am I turning you on?
Is this turning you on?
Comments: Add Your Own.

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