10:58pm 14/10/2007 // soy verdad lo que piensas.
i hope that if you ever need to feel someone elses heartbeat through their fingertips, my blood is warm enough. i hope you know that if youre ever having a problem, or if youre ever feeling like you dont know me anymore, or you anymore, or anything anymore, i will always make you tea and let you put your head on my lap while i pet you and listen to you. i hope that if you ever have secrets, we can lay down in the dark and you can send them down my throat. (&know that ill digest them all.) &i hope words are enough to convince you, cos theyre the only thing enough to convince me.

06:40pm 16/05/2005
this part is for starting over, growing up and out of old habits and stupid contradictions. this part is for sticking with it, holding my own hand through everything i used to be afraid of.

im sorry it looks like a line in a list. cocking heads to the left or right, it could be, but however crooked my spine might be, subjects and formats and methods, all completely different, its the last line of the best essay ive ever written.

you were there, and i was, and they were, and he is. none of us ever needed people to roll their eyes and walk away, to say "attention" and "dramatic." none of us needed masks or fake laughs, and thats all we had. we couldnt have kept grip without latches holding things down, without scribbles on post-its in the back of notebooks to remind us who to try to be more like. and instead of eye contact, youre driving back to the city to your own plateau. everyone does, everyone does.

there are hands to hold and hair to rake into crowns and heartrates increased and swelling gone down and skulls down on pillows with eyes shut inside and hymns that youll hum as youre driving at night. hes got lies that hell tell like theyre the only thing old and shell take them and twist them and type them in bold. stop kicking the wall and stubbing your toes, theres a rectangled glass in front of your nose. dont expect, regret, or over-dissect, but the limbs that youre flailing dont worry them yet. but even the greatest things can turn a heart into stone, skin into bones, and that is just the way things are sometimes.

06:11pm 22/01/2005
i just dont know what to say or do or feel or put down on paper or on this screen...i just dont understand how these things can be so instant, or how things take forever and ever when everyone knows thats not the way things should be. would you rather have an answer, or just blind faith? i dont know if i want to know if theres a treasure map for all of this, with sixty million ways to get to that tiny x, or if when i get there it will all have been some person trying to sell me more garbage i dont need that wont get me anywhere. im sorry, this is awful. and thats my point. why should i write in this? not for you. definitely not for you.

//.txt:
&when i stood up just then, i was so fucking dizzy. the blood just doesnt know what circles its supposed to be going in, i guess. its always that my heart pumps it all out too fast, or it keeps it in there a lot longer than its supposed to. and how do you tell your heart to do something different? its not like its going to listen either way. its not like you can just trace out a map in the air or down your legs, tell it "this is where youre supposed to put that." i guess its always been like that and we just never noticed. we were just too busy to figure out there was something at the bottom of this, some other rhyme or reason these fingertips never thawed, some rhyme or reason i never felt anything when you touched me. and how do you explain this to someone? it just wouldnt make any sense. "my plumbing and electrical systems, one sometimes stalls and it fucks up the other one..." it only hurts their brains hearing something like that. "but i cant explain you with a book..." and they just dont know what to think or say or where to go for fucking lunch.

12:58am 25/07/2004
&sometimes i want to shake you up and put you inside my stomach, where you can hear my heart beat best; where a thousand tiny winged things tangle themselves in each others limbs every fucking time i think about you. &sometimes i want to stir you up and pour you out in the blood behind my eyes, where, if you didnt drown, &i know you wouldnt, youd be the first not to; where cells dont whisper anything, everythings over the loudspeaker (even if there are nineteen different vocal distortions). &sometimes i want to suck you in and tuck you in the corner of my mouth, where you can sing every note for me when i dont feel right; where you can taste exactly what you are to me. &sometimes i want to crumple you up and start all over, just cos i know nothings that perfect.

&sometimes i want to smash this computer &hope that [instead of my head imploding] everything i put into it leaks out somewhere else in my life.

24th August 2003 10:17pm:
>>i like the taste of these::
exoskeletal . shiver . revision
bombast . decay . complaisant
vandalism . profusion . tragic
suite . alkaline . chimerical
queue . compunction . treatise

but i would like the taste of some more fucking soba noodles even more!