4/30/12

I wonder about vacations. A long weekend away from the monotonous, driving life cleanses the soul. But coming back breaks the heart. Are those few days of freedom worth the sickening depression that follows?

4/29/12

Sometimes people lie. It's ugly and disgusting but true, just like the life.

4/28/12

The bar scene is full of older men and younger people, all striving for attention and when they catch it, unsatisfied that it's from the elders and not the youth.

4/27/12

She pants and scratches up my chest, licking my nose and forehead. No one loves you like Bells.

2/25/12

Homework doesn't get done when I'm in a good mood. It's only when I'm terribly cranky that anything close to productivity is achieved.

4/24/12

She lumbers over, sighs, but I won't give her the attention she covets. She sighs louder, then clunks around in the kitchen, banging the pots together that she should be washing. I won't ask her what's wrong, you couldn't pay me to care. Sigh.

4/23/12

People croon and squeal over babies. I see drooling blobs, feces filled bags of goo. I am disgusting they say, to not think my life will be fulfilled with a screaming waste of money.

4/22/12

"Toot your own horn," they say. "Make them want YOU for the internship." It feels like lying, I say.

4/21/12

People like to think skin is smooth. Some skin has bumps, and divets, and marks that prove it as less than perfect. Most skin is jagged and unreal.

4/20/12

I made this mistake of leaving my window open. When I come back, a haze of smoke has drifted in from my neighbor's balcony. My couch is now a cocoon of weed.

4/19/12

The cigarette smoke clings to my hair long after it's left her thick locks, which seems backwards to me. His hair fans out between us and smells of coconut, which tastes disgusting but smells beautiful.

4/18/12

The police are sitting outside the apartment. Just one car, lights off, silent. Nothing has happened, it's unused, merely existing. And how is it now that I feel more at home than ever?

4/17/12

There's a trickster in the sky today. He laughs when he makes me fall.

4/16/12

You tell me when my biological clock ticks, I'll change my mind. I tell you you're a fool.

4/15/12

Four months, one week and three days.

Pizza boxes everywhere, trash, seeping gunk and creepy mold. Spit globbing up the sink, hair caked and molding in the drain catch. And she says to me, "Can you move your books?"

My brain is seeping out through my nose.

4/14/12

I'm an imagination, bright eyes, four heads and a scepter of spun sky.

4/13/12

It's beautiful and sparkly and antiseptic, covered in nothing and bathed in air.

4/12/12

I've run out. I'm a dried up husk of drained creativity.

4/11/12

Lightning brightens bubbling blackness, clouds clapping together in a deep symphonic applause. I feel beautiful in the storm, creative and inspired.

4/10/12

Home is an emotion. It's the joy of driving out of Bellingham at eighty miles an hour. It's trying your damnedest not to cry like a small child when you get the first glimpse of the Space Needle in front of you, or the sign that says "Entering Seattle" but actually is stating "Welcome Back".

4/9/12

Some are subtle, glancing from the corner of their eyes. Others are obvious, staring like I'm a deformed monster. "Mommy, why does that girl have a nail in her lip?" "Because she's mad at Jesus."

4/8/12

There's always someone in each class. They open their mouth and you immediately wish you were temporarily deaf. Or maybe in the tropics with a coconut and sand.

4/7/12

Sakura-con: pirates, faeries, aliens and furries. Let's go play pretend.

4/6/12

It's extremely depressing to drop ice cubes and not have my dog here to swoop in and scoop them up. Where is Bells when she's needed?

4/5/12

His hands are sandpaper over light glass skin. They caress, trying to find a way in but glass reflects all.

4/4/12

I wear my happiness like sunglasses, hiding sometimes from those peering in until they can  only see their own face.

4/3/12

Three days left until I put this place in my wake and five days 'til I'm back again. A snapping band of blandness to elation to depression.

4/2/12

Anywhere else umbrellas would be dancing through the streets, twirling like bright crumpled paper, protecting their owners from the rain. Here we have hoods halfheartedly drawn up to hide rosy faces, and people in shorts streaming through the miniature rivers winding down the hill.

4/1/12

I can almost feel it inside, that little life. It's just a cluster of cells leeching off my body, more of a parasite than anything else really. It'll make me vomit, swell up and claw its way out of my body while I writhe in agony. nobody likes babies.


 Nah, just kidding, April Fools.