cupiditiy
Not a lack of presence, just a lack of thought, energy & of control.
I HATE MOVING.
No tears, just memories, but somehow that's not enough to satisfy the deeper twists and turns that constantly occur inside. I'm standing on the edge of depression and looking down into it; I can't let myself fall again.
& I won't.
Through writing thoughtless prose and drawing mindless sketches, cleaning + unpacking, watching the Olympics, I am kept busy. Though, somehow, I'm never full. & maybe I was never meant to be.
School starts next Wednesday, but we have to go in on Thursday to pick up our schedules. This doesn't bother me, for I find myself longing to go back to a place where my mind is always scrambling, with no room for reflection. Tonight, I'm seeing The Notebook with an acquaintance from back home who's in town visiting. (Funny how I refer to that place as 'home'. What is home to me anyways? I'm not sure I even know..) I am going to try and enjoy myself, and have a great time.
I just want grade twelve to be the best year ever, because I think that's the least I deserve, and I'm not going to let anything come in the way of that;
especially myself.
--- Scented with rose petals & moistened by tears, we make love beneath the thin sheets. Your caresses are rough, my kisses are forced; we are lost in lust.
& all is silent.
Morning arises, and all I am to you is a silhouette against the dust of dawn.
I HATE MOVING.
No tears, just memories, but somehow that's not enough to satisfy the deeper twists and turns that constantly occur inside. I'm standing on the edge of depression and looking down into it; I can't let myself fall again.
& I won't.
Through writing thoughtless prose and drawing mindless sketches, cleaning + unpacking, watching the Olympics, I am kept busy. Though, somehow, I'm never full. & maybe I was never meant to be.
School starts next Wednesday, but we have to go in on Thursday to pick up our schedules. This doesn't bother me, for I find myself longing to go back to a place where my mind is always scrambling, with no room for reflection. Tonight, I'm seeing The Notebook with an acquaintance from back home who's in town visiting. (Funny how I refer to that place as 'home'. What is home to me anyways? I'm not sure I even know..) I am going to try and enjoy myself, and have a great time.
I just want grade twelve to be the best year ever, because I think that's the least I deserve, and I'm not going to let anything come in the way of that;
especially myself.
--- Scented with rose petals & moistened by tears, we make love beneath the thin sheets. Your caresses are rough, my kisses are forced; we are lost in lust.
& all is silent.
Morning arises, and all I am to you is a silhouette against the dust of dawn.