my back is a desert, and the coyotes are tickling me with their tails.

My back really itches. So much, in fact, that I want to take some sort of medieval blow torch and sear the skin off my shoulders and upper back.

dont thinkabout it dont think about it dont think about it dont thinkaboutitdontthinkaboutit.

I smell like papayas. So much in fact that I want to take a huge bite out of myself.
Not really.

I also cannot write anymore. have you noticed? every word that shoots out of my fingers is dull, and every . and , and ! and ? is meaningless and tired and trite.

scratchscratchscratchscratch....


i want the future so badly.

change makes me nervous and anxious and sad and happy and insane.

which makes getting to future a little bit difficult.


FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have solved for "x"

Dear You,

Okay, so I’ve decided that I am right, and you are wrong. You may think that this is stupid, and that I am a selfish, ungrateful, pretentious child who cannot possibly understand anything. But I understand more than you will ever know. This is the life you chose for me, and now, the life that I choose for myself. May I highlight, for you, the word “choice”? Read it. See it. Understand it. Can you feel the anger radiating off me? You will not unwittingly insult me anymore, and degrade what I have. What you gave to me. What you would have to pry from my arms if you ever thought to take . It is not second best. It is the only thing I’ve ever had. It is not inferior . It is what I want. When I am 18, I will not come to live with you. I will not undo your mistake. I will not help you work past it . I will not help you reconcile with yourself. I understand how you feel, and I cannot fathom doing what you did, but it is not my responsibility. It is not my burden to carry. I will not feel guilty for loving what I have. I will not feel sorry for you for being irresponsible. Or maybe you were responsible, and now regret what you have done and want peace. But I have no peace to give. You can accept your role in my life, as it is now. Or, you can get out of my life. Simple as that. Simple as pie. I’ve worked very hard in my life as not to feel that I am nothing. I belong where I am. Non sono una figlia di un cane, una figlia di un preservativo rotto.

Love,
Me

Surprised by Gravity

I am at a loss for what to do.

I thought that I had all my answers. I had every fibre and filament inplace, ready to be built upon, ready to be rested and laid upon. But now that they have dissolved, broken into nothing, I find that I am very much without a place to sit. Without a place to breathe or relax or settle down and rest my tired, tired head.

I'm going home soon. Which fills me with a dread and a comfort that I cannot explain. There was never a debate about if it would be difficult. The only question that remains is how difficult it will be.

savemesavemesavemesavemesaveme.

the kitchen walls recieve my sigh.

I don't know what to say to anyone. I have nothing to say . There is nothing to say or to do or to make or to feel. I don't have anything to say to my parents, or to my best friend, or to my grandparents, other than how much I want to see them. I have so much to do. Italy, Rome, going home, parties, NYC, college, college college. And I should be happy. I should be excited about my future, just like everyone else is. But all the looking forward I have to do is destroying me . All I want to do is crawl into bed( I'm not even sure which...) and listen to my iPod and cry and cry and cry until my cheeks are raw with salt and whatever else is in tears, and until my chest is tight and my eyes are burning and my head is throbbing. Then I will sleep, and wake up, and find everything how I've left it. Whatever my everything is.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that affection is only a habit.

I want everything and nothing. I believe in everything in nothing. I am everything, and nothing.