opposite

I've been so tired lately. Everything I do exhausts me, wrenching the energy from my fists and robbing me of desire to indulge in anything worthwhile. The paint fumes are making me feel woozy; they're clouding my brain. I want to go home.

My hands and hair are speckled with white primer and half-hearted effort. My belly demands a change of habit. Please spit out your mouthful of sin, belly. Unwanted. Shoo.

I am lazily craving a sober cigarette for the first time in a long while. Something to attack my body, something that won't leave me feeling like a huge, sad animal, perhaps from the pachyderm family. A mammoth, maybe.

I am drenched in lack-of-purpose.

breathe

I had my first yoga class today; what an incredible experience. When we began, the first calming exercises and the feelings I got from them were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes.

I am exhausted. There are silent fingers tugging at my eyelids and impatient toes burrowing into my skull. However, I feel happy and pleased with this exhaustion because it sprouted from something productive and cleansing. The dingy edges of my mood have been scrubbed until another episode of mud sprays.

I am thankful to have met and fell in love with a person who changed my life, I am thankful for my two best friends and their beautiful souls.

Mmmm.

him

I do not deserve you.
Your love is delicate and fragile; I can't treat it haphazardly.
I am so grateful.
I miss you the most when it's cold.
Your presence is a mug of something warm, kissing my frozen palms.

<^>

I ache for something different, but when I am fed a scrap of change I am not satisfied. That's humanity for me I suppose.
I am happier. I'm not the happiest, but I am happier. This is good. Thank you, whoever you are, the cold weather, the sunshine, the warmth.

I don't think God made everything, I think that God is everything. Everything is God. Maybe? Perhaps not. Exploration dominates.

- - - - -

Frustration, indecision and tingling impulsiveness. Pressure. Concern.

stale

I wrote this last semester for an english assignment where I was asked to describe everything around me for a few minutes.

The ceiling fan, the air conditioner, and another fan are spitting their measly attempts at cool air in my face. My body is sticky, my hair is stringy and the backs of my knees are glistening. Sister’s music whines while her fingers clack fiercely on the keyboard. They pause. She is thinking.

The two dogs sprawl on the carpet; their black, furry tummies that are slowly heaving up and down are the only reassurances that they’ve survived the vicious heat.

Various cellophane wrappers and lone papers flutter with each spin of the fan’s blades. This room is a sad attempt to retain any scrap of this family’s existence. See this clay-molded elephant, with the red and gold paint? Oh, it has been around forever. Even before our identities floated away, disappearing into the heat waves.

I take this pen and comb it through my hair. The air flips the pages of this notebook. Today is a lazy day. I feel no need or desire to leave here, busy myself with something, or indulge myself with friendship. I will sit here on this moldy blue couch, pondering lunch possibilities that won’t end up throwing itself from my stiff, cold lips into the toilet or on the floor.

I wish I were encased in ice, a sculpture commuting around the world, slowly melting so I can lick and sip the water leaking from my fingers. I wouldn’t hear anything but my thoughts bantering back and forth.

I look up. The music has stopped.

""

There is a painting that I feel compelled to finish but I have no inspiration for. A yellow windowpane floats among a blueish-green gradient and my original plan for it seems too complicated to even think about. Listening to Peter Bjorn and John, however, numbs the frustration. Good lads.

I am alone and plagued with worry because those I am closest with are each going through struggles that I can't seem to even begin to assist with. I feel helpless. Please give me some of your pain; please let me harbor it for you so you can take a deep, cleansing breath.


The weather is finally cooling. I love cold weather, it's not harsh or sharp; it's mellow and soothing and easy to hide in. Cold weather brings the scent of comfort and successful change and playful spontaneity. Sweaters and blankets and warm cuddling love. Hues of calm teals and blues and soft, kind red enveloping me in cozy security.

I think I might paint now.

spread your legs and fly

Lately, people have been ignoring me when I wave to them.



I feel impetuous.

>>

Some of my really good friends aren't really good at being friends.

Today I saw the most beautiful little girl in the world. She was about two years old. Her eyes are what struck me, golden-green and hooded by long dark lashes; these eyes flashed with wisdom. She had an aura of knowledge and experience, more so then even her mother, whose presence reminded of the word "bustling". Or nervous. Her mother was a twittering bird, busily trying to overcome her monsters by sweeping them under the rug. Transparent.

:::

I don't know how long I can go about fooling myself. I'm not fooling anyone else.
I suppose I complain because I want you to care. I can't continue like this, it's pathetic. It's time to stop, and to battle with reality.
I have so much passion and so much energy to fling myself into art and creativity and an outgoing attitude, but that same passion and energy is also used to hurl myself into deep, genuine, fiery hatred directed towards my very core, burning and twisting it into unhappy deformation. Is it worth it? Sometimes I don't know.


I miss those days.

()0()0

Ugh. I wonder what you eat for breakfast.