i wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. not fuck, like in the movies. not even have sex. just sleep together, in the most innosent sence of the phrase. but i lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and i was gawky and she was gorgeous and i was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. so i walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, i was a drizzle and she was a hurricane.

just a thought.

what a beautiful face
     i have found in this place.

i felt proud of myself talking with college literature majors & realizing i knew more about their topics than they did. i don't know what it is about this feeling of superior understanding & comprehension that makes me feel accomplished. maybe it's nice to be reminded i'm more than a drug addict and a drop out, and i'm more than a complete deadbeat. maybe i'm just a huge mess of wasted potential.

ffff

i'm a horrid information hound.

i'm a loveless, loveless lover.

i'm too animated to ever feel dead.

i've got great taste in music.

i've got an optimistic outlook on life.

i've got a forgiving heart that breaks too easy.

i would do almost anything for the people i love.

i would buy the world for you.

i would leave you alone.

i can be ignored.

i can be forgotten.

i can be replaced.

fuck.

fbp2.

mneh. love is for pussies

anyway. i know absolutely 

what i want from myself.

i want to help people. 

i want to save people.

i want to change the world

for just one person.

but i never really know

what i want from

anyone else.

my god. i'm pathetic.

what i wouldn't do.

this doesn't really mean much writting down like this, but i've been thinking it a lot lately. you: i want to save you. i don't know what from, but it's always in the back of my mind. so badly. i hardly even see you anymore. but i want to save you.

maybe that's my problem.

you remind me of a lot of things, like magpies & sylvia plath. i guess you're just that indie in my head. & black embroidered tights with runs on the knees. & empty beer cans. it's ridiculous how much you skip across my mind... even know: i wonder if you'll ever read this. i think you're a pirate, girl. it's all your golden teeth. & it's your ten bony fingers, skeleton pointing, holding a cigarette. i want to show you my stupid tattoo & i want you to run your hands over it while we lie in the grass--i think it would cure the itching. mostly; mostly. i want to buy you a bunch of pretty sun-yellow daisies. & a pack of marlboro's wrapped in pink paper with a red ribbon tied around it in a bow. i want to leave it on your porch & doorbell ditch you like i did to all of my juniour high crushes. maybe i'll do that now.
     god. i wish i knew where you lived.

ebony curls.

pretty, pretty palms.

thank god.

it takes strength to be firm,

it takes courage to be gentle.
it takes strength to stand guard,

it takes courage to let down your guard.
it takes strength to conquer,

it takes courage to surrender.
it takes strength to be certain,

it takes courage to have doubt.
it takes strength to fit in,

it takes courage to stand out.
it takes strength to feel a friend's pain,

it takes courage to feel your own pain.
it takes strength to hide your own pains,

it takes courage to show them.
it takes strength to endure abuse,

it takes courage to stop it.
it takes strength to stand alone,

it takes courage to lean on another.
it takes strength to love,

it takes courage to be loved.
it takes strength to survive,

it takes courage to live.