Purse Journal Entries
9/26/05 -
Met a new guy named Rick. He's 26 and works at a hospital. He wants to go out. He calls me "zany" and "original". Dating. Ha.
- Kels
9/26/05 -
Dear piece of paper that will not end up online but in my Forbidden Book. Men can be more dramatic than Women! I like Dan. I've totally fell for Dan. He knows. But now he is sitting with Patrick sulking, bashing women, just like I'm bashing men at Rocket Star Cafe. "Be Honest." He says. - Yeah, about that, Dan. Don't be a hypocrite. Fuck men! I wish he'd just be honest with me! Jeopardize our friendship. Our relationship wouldn't do that! We click reat, but things are so messed up. Sigh.
- Kelsey.
(Night I had a seizure at Fourth Coast. Forgive the sproadic writing. It is proof of my irregular neurological activity in my brain leading up to the seizure itself.
As much as I want to kill Dan, I can't. Yeah, I really really hate the whole punk attitude, because it's not the Dan that I know. I hate the fact that he'll fuck Kate and that all of his attention is focused on her. But I almost wonder if this is backlash or punishment from Peter. Perhaps this is just my way of being able to see the Peter Eva situation played out physically. Dan is becoming Peter. The avoiding schemes, the last minute moodswings and personality changes. A way of escaping reality - only Peter shuts himself up, alone. Dan opts for lethal amounts of drugs and enough alcohol to drown himself in. It's all a game of physical, emotional and mental mind fucking.
Blue blue blue. Man = Manic, evasive, nutcases. Remember kids, down the street, not across! Why do I let myself obsess? Why do I let myself agonize? I know the truth. I just don't want to accept it. The truth is, I've fucked up. I've gone down the same street again while knowing the consequences. Lust, feelings, infatuation, easily blinding. Sometimes I feel like i'm a prisoner in my own head. It's entirely frustrating, because some times when I am trapped, the cell's blank walls reflect my mind - People see it on my face. But usually when they ask, "What's wrong?", there is nothing. Nothingness!
It is possible to be lost in thought without really thingking about anything.
Merry Christmas to me. The blood letting party. The cutting party. Whipped cream, ice, mocha. Chocolate syrup. Tender, hard, posing.
Blue eyeliner streaming down my cheeks.
Eyeshadow is a pool.
I hate ignorance. I loathe self chosen naivete. Stupidity is just that. Stupid. Stupidity is just that. Stupid. Butterflies, unicorns and princesses. Fairy tales with happy endings. Lock yourself up in a box.
Swallow the key.
Die ignorant. > Don't dance. Don't take that. Leap of faith.
The innocence can't take life.
Random thoughts. Paris after crash.
She died in that concrete tunnel.
Blood, shrieking brakes, human screams.
Dead children. Write! write! write!
Lexapro induced euphoria. Hear me out!
Frou frou. Hear me out!
Protect me from what I want.
Undeniably dead.
10/04/05 - Epiphany.
The Dan I know is dying. Is dead. He says that his days have been wonderful, lovely, fantastic. I can no longer tell if this is the truth.
"The Mohawk goes to your head." Patrick says.
It appears to be the case here. I miss the poetry, I miss the playful glares, the poetry, the photographer, the singer, the writer. I miss watching him smoke a cigarette. I miss his laughter.
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
You're lost in Kate's punk world. You're lost to me. But you were never mine to begin with, were you?
I want revenge on you, sweet Frank Sinatra. But I was told to bide my time, that revenge would come, but it would come not from me, but from the very person that stole you away. You're such a stranger to me.
That monday. So apart from us...We were so apart from you. What was there to say? Pat, Erica and me...closer in an instant. You chose to break apart from us. Until you come back, this is finality. Goodbye, Dan.
Down the Rabit Hole. 10/07/05 -
So the 3 amigos, that is to say, Erica, Patrick and I have decided that Dan is alotted one month before he is officially kicked out of our official group. We saw the apartment today. It is beautiful. 3 bedrooms, a beautifully redone kitchen, built in dressers, an attic, a balcony. It's just really nice.
The problem - none of us, with the exception of Erica, have rental history. So we need parental co-signers. Rather, just co-signers.
I won't be responsible for your suicide...
Met a new guy named Rick. He's 26 and works at a hospital. He wants to go out. He calls me "zany" and "original". Dating. Ha.
- Kels
9/26/05 -
Dear piece of paper that will not end up online but in my Forbidden Book. Men can be more dramatic than Women! I like Dan. I've totally fell for Dan. He knows. But now he is sitting with Patrick sulking, bashing women, just like I'm bashing men at Rocket Star Cafe. "Be Honest." He says. - Yeah, about that, Dan. Don't be a hypocrite. Fuck men! I wish he'd just be honest with me! Jeopardize our friendship. Our relationship wouldn't do that! We click reat, but things are so messed up. Sigh.
- Kelsey.
(Night I had a seizure at Fourth Coast. Forgive the sproadic writing. It is proof of my irregular neurological activity in my brain leading up to the seizure itself.
As much as I want to kill Dan, I can't. Yeah, I really really hate the whole punk attitude, because it's not the Dan that I know. I hate the fact that he'll fuck Kate and that all of his attention is focused on her. But I almost wonder if this is backlash or punishment from Peter. Perhaps this is just my way of being able to see the Peter Eva situation played out physically. Dan is becoming Peter. The avoiding schemes, the last minute moodswings and personality changes. A way of escaping reality - only Peter shuts himself up, alone. Dan opts for lethal amounts of drugs and enough alcohol to drown himself in. It's all a game of physical, emotional and mental mind fucking.
Blue blue blue. Man = Manic, evasive, nutcases. Remember kids, down the street, not across! Why do I let myself obsess? Why do I let myself agonize? I know the truth. I just don't want to accept it. The truth is, I've fucked up. I've gone down the same street again while knowing the consequences. Lust, feelings, infatuation, easily blinding. Sometimes I feel like i'm a prisoner in my own head. It's entirely frustrating, because some times when I am trapped, the cell's blank walls reflect my mind - People see it on my face. But usually when they ask, "What's wrong?", there is nothing. Nothingness!
It is possible to be lost in thought without really thingking about anything.
Merry Christmas to me. The blood letting party. The cutting party. Whipped cream, ice, mocha. Chocolate syrup. Tender, hard, posing.
Blue eyeliner streaming down my cheeks.
Eyeshadow is a pool.
I hate ignorance. I loathe self chosen naivete. Stupidity is just that. Stupid. Stupidity is just that. Stupid. Butterflies, unicorns and princesses. Fairy tales with happy endings. Lock yourself up in a box.
Swallow the key.
Die ignorant. > Don't dance. Don't take that. Leap of faith.
The innocence can't take life.
Random thoughts. Paris after crash.
She died in that concrete tunnel.
Blood, shrieking brakes, human screams.
Dead children. Write! write! write!
Lexapro induced euphoria. Hear me out!
Frou frou. Hear me out!
Protect me from what I want.
Undeniably dead.
10/04/05 - Epiphany.
The Dan I know is dying. Is dead. He says that his days have been wonderful, lovely, fantastic. I can no longer tell if this is the truth.
"The Mohawk goes to your head." Patrick says.
It appears to be the case here. I miss the poetry, I miss the playful glares, the poetry, the photographer, the singer, the writer. I miss watching him smoke a cigarette. I miss his laughter.
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
You're lost in Kate's punk world. You're lost to me. But you were never mine to begin with, were you?
I want revenge on you, sweet Frank Sinatra. But I was told to bide my time, that revenge would come, but it would come not from me, but from the very person that stole you away. You're such a stranger to me.
That monday. So apart from us...We were so apart from you. What was there to say? Pat, Erica and me...closer in an instant. You chose to break apart from us. Until you come back, this is finality. Goodbye, Dan.
Down the Rabit Hole. 10/07/05 -
So the 3 amigos, that is to say, Erica, Patrick and I have decided that Dan is alotted one month before he is officially kicked out of our official group. We saw the apartment today. It is beautiful. 3 bedrooms, a beautifully redone kitchen, built in dressers, an attic, a balcony. It's just really nice.
The problem - none of us, with the exception of Erica, have rental history. So we need parental co-signers. Rather, just co-signers.
I won't be responsible for your suicide...