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I never meant for my coldness to hurt you, in fact, its whole design is to prevent my feelings from interfering with anyone else’s life, to prove to someone that I don’t need them and to insulate myself and everyone else from whatever havoc my neurosis will wreak. Running is the way that I create boundaries, and I know it is wrong, and I am trying ( Read more... )

They said all of the oranges that year died of tristeza. The biggest loss since the thirties, the aphids came in and all it took was a few weeks. I'll tell you, though, it's been working me for years. Maybe I'll call up the orangemen with the only question I have left. What say you, Doc? How much longer for me?

This is who I am. Will I be enough? Will I be too much?

One of my most potent desires is that someday I will let someone in, and they will read my diary cover to cover.

It's been a while since I've tapped into the livejournal network. Tonight I'm going to attempt to post an update before I start undertaking the epic, always nostalgic, and frequently melancholic re-reading of my own past. I swear, I write in journals only so that I can re-read them later. I am still in the constant business of categorically ( Read more... )

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond ( Read more... )

"I love this... so so very much that it makes me angry to try to express that love." (Anna Carroll)

For as long as I can remember, my most prevalent fantasy has been to come home and to find you, half-asleep amid some seasoned dream, turning in my bed: lying in wait. And you won’t tell me why because there won’t be a why-only that where I would end up is where you needed to be. In my fantasy, I would never ask you to explain, I’d only lay next to ( Read more... )

I understand, now, why they've all tried to strike you: because it's the closest they can come to murder.

I would like very much to kill you, so that you may never hurt, and so that you may never hurt someone else again.