who would have guessed?

What kith are you? Find out here.

things are...

well, things are. and that's the most i can say for much of anything.
they exist.
i woke up this morning trembling, and not sure why.
my heart was beating a million times a minute, it felt like, and i could feel the frenzied hint of not-enough-sleep in my mouth. odd, because i slept for at least seven hours. uninterrupted by the usual evil dreams. my night time visitors were simply strange last night, searching through a dark courtyard, feverishly looking for my apartment.
i was frightened when i woke up. it felt like the hours slipping away just before a goodbye, that standing on quicksand feeling, you can breathe now, but soon you won't be able to...

but here i am. still breathing.

i am in the process of buying my ticket for Rome.
i'll be there four weeks, writing a novella and a collection of poems, and studying the elements of painting, drawing and collage...i informed the professor that i cannot even really draw stick figures, and he said that was still ok. after that, E is meeting me in Rome, and we will wend our way up through Italy, north towards Venice, and then after that possibly to Paris, and then eventually end up in London from where i will return to the states and she will go on to Brussels. i am deeply excited. i never thought that i would be accepted to any kind of study abroad, and here i am going...and traveling through Europe. eep.

i was crying when i met you

there was a time

i was remembering ninth grade today. i was only fourteen, and i'd lost much of my innocence two years before. and yet, i was so young. i didn't know how many mistakes i had left to make. how there were things that could happen to me, that i couldn't blame on other people

when i was so broken hearted

i had just cut off my hair, the strands that had long since knotted into a single dreadlock. i was letting my face show, for the first time in two years, and it didn't do any good. no one really wanted to look at it anyway. no one that i saw.

love wasn't much of a friend of mine...

i was thinking about that today, about a girl who walked through central park, singing as loudly as she could, with a few others (never singing the harmony part though, 'cause she couldn't keep the pitch.)

...now there's not even breathing room, between pleasure and pain

about that girl who was always in love with the unattainable, who got hit by a car as she sang Aerosmith on the intersection of 96th and Madison... who thought that requited love would appease all those demons, and exorcise the envy and make it all float away.

yeah, you cry when we're making love, must be one and the same

the same one who thought that tears joined with lovemaking would be inexpressibly and utterly romantic.

i miss her sometimes.