I am feeling quite glum
but I want to feel good
to feel good is to feel wanted
and that I do not feel
I realize this;
despite innate independence,
my happiness dwells far too prominently upon another
happiness must birth, bloom, and breathe its miasma from myself.
I see the problem
I care for others more
than they care for me
the intensity of my emotions
carries me to disappointment
I love with a ferociousness
that a feline cannot extend
and I kiss with a kindled destruction
that puppy love could never intend
()tonight my brother said, "..when you become a famous writer, buy me a..." that made me sad.
()my father is in insane. he's buying land that costs two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. that's just land. we're building a house on that so the moving process will take longer.
()there's a spot on the corner of franklin street and eagle where I played basketball at the park in my 5 year old inability; where that first clown terrorized me that frightful summer day to the point where I ran home choking. I wish I was there now. new york city streetlights and shaved ice.
()I want my nights to not be lonely, my mornings to be pleasurable. I want movie marathons. I want still, quiet ambience, velour blankets, and alabaster skin. I want sun-baked and moonlit kisses.
()I'm starting to realize just how much promiscuity scares and saddens me.
()I'm reading Down and Out In Paris and London by George Orwell. one day I'll read a happy book.
()everyone go rent May.
this week I will discover new words. I've exhausted all the ones I know. and I will also construct an end - a six by nine box - for all the pettiness. I want to stop being scared of whatever monsters I am scared of.