December 23rd, 2001

(no subject)

im finishing up a quesadilla. must take quilt over to the laundromat for dropoff. rush to a dr's appointment. rush to work. this will be my second to last sunday. i am going to request that i no longer work on weekends. im a college graduate with a real job. i shouldnt have to give up one of 2 days of freedom. im feeling very vehement about this.

a dog is barking, somewhere in the building. strange, since we're not really supposed to have dogs, and this one sound big with a low rough bark.

nothing bad has happened yet, but i still feel restless and very spontaneous. my room is chilly.
i need to get a move on if i am to make my appointment decently on time.

my deoderant smells like cherry froot loops. how strange is that?

chameleon

zinc on my tongue,
inconsiderate people.

i want to slowly suck the marrow out of everyone's bones..the tibias and the fibias, and the little tiny pieces of finger, which i would know the name to if i only read more. i am so uneducated.

i hate it all and i am not afraid to hold back. ah, it is december again. the earth tilts and so do i. i want to hole up in my room with nothing to eat and waste away. check my email without answering, cry, write, yell, spread red paint all over my floor with my fingers...
i am insane. absolutely.

every december is this way. every. i am not myself. and i disdain it. i hate me. i hate you. i cringe at every movement that every single thing makes. the sand in the cracks in the sidewalk piss me off. i cry on the walk home from the F train. if i could only express that emotion that dangles on the ends of my fingers like piercings!

I hate christmas. why should i have to be obligated to give gifts to people, especially in such a state? i love whom i love and they know it.

the girl says, please wrap this up. i dont want it to break. its a sturdy wooden frame. i look at her, and tell her not to drop it and step on it and it wont break. i am holden caufield on a bad day. she looks at me and thinks i am kidding. i smile back. i am not kidding.

how can anyone love such creature as i am now? spiteful, judgemental, and tortured for no reason. i do not deserve it. and it is now that i need the most love. or this gets worse until February.

December again. Only 4 more weeks to go. I want to fall in love so badly it hurts, and i know i never will again. ever. ever again. i am insane.
you are only 23, he says. i know me, i say. you dont.