my day to quit but its second shot free at the all night espresso
so im screwed. honestly screwed.
i hada bad feeling when ivory and i left mrs knowles class to hear the poet.
so now im screwed, i cant not write. i kept it so pent up so long and now when theres all this shit culminating and sceaming to be done, i have a monster that has gotten out.
i must write.
i screwed up a dillution at work. one moment i had it in my hand and the next i was standing there with no product. its bad
the thing that is eating me is this. all you who care listen up.
i have an obsession. i like to go out in as little clothes as the time of day or night permits and dance in my yard and driveway. i bring music and my immagination and then magic comes for the party.
so i was out the other day and i was flying it was so great. i was jumping and swinging and running and doing handstands and cartwheels. i shifted midair and started in another direction.
i put my foot where i could use it for stability in the new direction. there was no ground.
my leg swung through empty air. and i stumbled to a stop. i looked at my feet and my self. no obvious problems. i looked at the sky hoping to find anything. but that was the first time all night i noticed that there were no stars. no nothing. so i lay down on my driveway in the black warm night and cried.
where was the ground. where is the ground have i hit bottom yet. no this hole seems to keep going. i have stopped writing and i thought i could just get away with that. what else can you do at that point. i know just what is fucking wrong. i started on my eighteenth birthday. felt cheated out of my child hood and looked back at my journals and decided that i needed to move on. so i did. i moved into the world of college i did everything on my fucking own. some of our class mates have parents who help or do their childs college application or scholarships or project.
well not emily she did everything. shes going to the college she wants. shes paying for every fucking penny. shes living away from all of this. just for an idea i have a job that neither my mom nor my dad could do, they are 51 and 46. im here and i have a whole lot and im gonna keep it that way im gonna keep writing. ive cried too much since i gave it up. im going to get a chemsitry degreee and live however the fuck i want. no one is going to tell me anything and if they should i will walk the other way. im the blue chip now and im going to have it all. who knows maybe even love. ha. and the ducks are still flying south and the needle still points north. and still i like east by north east. so all of you remember where the gound is. the sky goes up forever but the ground is allways there to trip you up.
i love you
emily
i hada bad feeling when ivory and i left mrs knowles class to hear the poet.
so now im screwed, i cant not write. i kept it so pent up so long and now when theres all this shit culminating and sceaming to be done, i have a monster that has gotten out.
i must write.
i screwed up a dillution at work. one moment i had it in my hand and the next i was standing there with no product. its bad
the thing that is eating me is this. all you who care listen up.
i have an obsession. i like to go out in as little clothes as the time of day or night permits and dance in my yard and driveway. i bring music and my immagination and then magic comes for the party.
so i was out the other day and i was flying it was so great. i was jumping and swinging and running and doing handstands and cartwheels. i shifted midair and started in another direction.
i put my foot where i could use it for stability in the new direction. there was no ground.
my leg swung through empty air. and i stumbled to a stop. i looked at my feet and my self. no obvious problems. i looked at the sky hoping to find anything. but that was the first time all night i noticed that there were no stars. no nothing. so i lay down on my driveway in the black warm night and cried.
where was the ground. where is the ground have i hit bottom yet. no this hole seems to keep going. i have stopped writing and i thought i could just get away with that. what else can you do at that point. i know just what is fucking wrong. i started on my eighteenth birthday. felt cheated out of my child hood and looked back at my journals and decided that i needed to move on. so i did. i moved into the world of college i did everything on my fucking own. some of our class mates have parents who help or do their childs college application or scholarships or project.
well not emily she did everything. shes going to the college she wants. shes paying for every fucking penny. shes living away from all of this. just for an idea i have a job that neither my mom nor my dad could do, they are 51 and 46. im here and i have a whole lot and im gonna keep it that way im gonna keep writing. ive cried too much since i gave it up. im going to get a chemsitry degreee and live however the fuck i want. no one is going to tell me anything and if they should i will walk the other way. im the blue chip now and im going to have it all. who knows maybe even love. ha. and the ducks are still flying south and the needle still points north. and still i like east by north east. so all of you remember where the gound is. the sky goes up forever but the ground is allways there to trip you up.
i love you
emily