June Gloom In San Diego
>6.8.03 Rock Steady
All I recall are the protruding memories of what I desired. The acts of love that a woman needs. I don't even know why I am driving to his house. How one over looks so much to appease the need for something to feel right-to be right. A mold made into something it is not. As not to pain, accepting a little everyday. Building a tolerance to what we despise most. Settling because last time was almost perfect. A sort of low self-esteem? A new kind of wonderful? I have yet to determine the difference. I think this may be real.
>5.23.03 Slides
Feeding my mind images I can only emotionally comprehend. The power of looking back. The fine line between life and death. The honesty of silence. Wondering how? Why? Someone can be taken in an instant. Only left for eyes and hearts to reach out to paper, to slides, to the imprint of that person whose smell fills your nose and soft kind touch washes over you in your dreams. Only you wish it could be real. The grain of earth, unknown worlds separating you from that person you wish to hold. to talk to. to have faith again. A thirsting quest for knowledge. to relive. The dictionary games. Emergency surgery of a hand made doll. The conversations. The chest to fall asleep on. The card that was lost after everyone said she was going to be okay. The waking up to screaming. The crying under that towel rack in the bathroom. A little sister who only understood that Mommy was sad. Sitting next to a man who went to sleep with her every night, ten seconds a picture. A thousand words each. What I would give to jump in. to touch. to relive what the rest did. To kiss what was lost that night. My dad said it would be fine. I knew. The dictionary games left me isolated, wise beyond my age. These slides all the more bound through my veins. Her lipstick red as the roses she grew.
>5.22.03 Commencement Exercises
Last night seems like some sort of distant reality. Like something that happened so long ago it remains only a vague recollection that has placed me in this present state. Ironically, this was only last night...I've put off writing about it because I have no way to express what was happening. Instead I focused on my thank you list. "Thank you for the gift...the money...the support." I knew that it would either hit me all at once or it would pass over me before I realized the severity of the transition. Rather, I went through the experience in a vicarious manner. I was constantly pondering what that person was feeling or what that person was thinking. I didn't know what I was supposed to be feeling. I did not even cry last night. I smiled instead. Truly happy. I believe this is due to the fact that I have been ready for this since last year. I had already moved on from that place a year before I was physically going through the motions. It did not even phase me. My name was called on three occasions. One, for an endorsement in the performing arts (dance). Two, for being in the top twenty of my class of 487 kids. Three, for my diploma. Last night is but a blur. I remained trapped by people on one side of the field, seemingly unable to move elsewhere. I recall only walking to my place after receiving my diploma. My teachers on that side stood in a line to hug me. It was all quite an honor. Yet I was more humbled.
>4.22.03 No conscious notice
What to do about something that hurts too much to even think any further on, nonetheless act upon. However not doing so results in losing any hope that might exist, and again is too painful to imagine is even present. To not validate the existence of the biggest obstruction in my life. Fearful to question how and if. Silent and strikingly eager as it passes.
All I recall are the protruding memories of what I desired. The acts of love that a woman needs. I don't even know why I am driving to his house. How one over looks so much to appease the need for something to feel right-to be right. A mold made into something it is not. As not to pain, accepting a little everyday. Building a tolerance to what we despise most. Settling because last time was almost perfect. A sort of low self-esteem? A new kind of wonderful? I have yet to determine the difference. I think this may be real.
>5.23.03 Slides
Feeding my mind images I can only emotionally comprehend. The power of looking back. The fine line between life and death. The honesty of silence. Wondering how? Why? Someone can be taken in an instant. Only left for eyes and hearts to reach out to paper, to slides, to the imprint of that person whose smell fills your nose and soft kind touch washes over you in your dreams. Only you wish it could be real. The grain of earth, unknown worlds separating you from that person you wish to hold. to talk to. to have faith again. A thirsting quest for knowledge. to relive. The dictionary games. Emergency surgery of a hand made doll. The conversations. The chest to fall asleep on. The card that was lost after everyone said she was going to be okay. The waking up to screaming. The crying under that towel rack in the bathroom. A little sister who only understood that Mommy was sad. Sitting next to a man who went to sleep with her every night, ten seconds a picture. A thousand words each. What I would give to jump in. to touch. to relive what the rest did. To kiss what was lost that night. My dad said it would be fine. I knew. The dictionary games left me isolated, wise beyond my age. These slides all the more bound through my veins. Her lipstick red as the roses she grew.
>5.22.03 Commencement Exercises
Last night seems like some sort of distant reality. Like something that happened so long ago it remains only a vague recollection that has placed me in this present state. Ironically, this was only last night...I've put off writing about it because I have no way to express what was happening. Instead I focused on my thank you list. "Thank you for the gift...the money...the support." I knew that it would either hit me all at once or it would pass over me before I realized the severity of the transition. Rather, I went through the experience in a vicarious manner. I was constantly pondering what that person was feeling or what that person was thinking. I didn't know what I was supposed to be feeling. I did not even cry last night. I smiled instead. Truly happy. I believe this is due to the fact that I have been ready for this since last year. I had already moved on from that place a year before I was physically going through the motions. It did not even phase me. My name was called on three occasions. One, for an endorsement in the performing arts (dance). Two, for being in the top twenty of my class of 487 kids. Three, for my diploma. Last night is but a blur. I remained trapped by people on one side of the field, seemingly unable to move elsewhere. I recall only walking to my place after receiving my diploma. My teachers on that side stood in a line to hug me. It was all quite an honor. Yet I was more humbled.
>4.22.03 No conscious notice
What to do about something that hurts too much to even think any further on, nonetheless act upon. However not doing so results in losing any hope that might exist, and again is too painful to imagine is even present. To not validate the existence of the biggest obstruction in my life. Fearful to question how and if. Silent and strikingly eager as it passes.