trying to hold everything in its hard its hard my world lies inside of me but sometimes it feels like someone has slashed my stomach, blood and organs showing, slipping out and im trying to clutch them inside with my bare hands, as if this will save me from my imminent death. 

strange that something so terribly important to me, ingrained in my memory, should have such little significance to you that you could forget.  one moment, your face turning to me, only us, your hold over me.  how long ago? 

keep thinking how i thought a change of place would change this feeling but i am more trapped than ever and i am starting to think that no matter where i go it will still feel dead.  i will still feel dead.  

The Reaping

From the familiar stones in the earth
take our daughters
tame our daughters

no more waving
no more waiting

cut their hair

they lean
they fear

our daughters from the stones
are bound
hand and foot

our daughters from the stones
are cut
before blooming.

We can only make our own waves
                             our own warmth
                             our own light

Loyal to the wave, one is drowned
                             at the level.

Yielding to the flame, one is consumed
                             by the fire.

Lending importance to light, one is condemned
                             to the dark.

After death, silence.
Speak now and watch the others stare.
Say nothing and listen to your own despair.



Sorry I do not know who wrote this I found it in a book at the library about Native Americans.

another party probably the last. at least i felt alive.  as we smoked in the back she played a song  and thinking about this summer, its been lovely in its own way, but i started to remember last summer too.  less pain, only a kind of melancholy.  its gone and soon this will be too nothing like it ever again.  never again.  its hard to deal with everything moment to moment then suddenly its all over.

i think i would not mind if i could feel drunk all the time spinning and beautiful

i think i cannot accept reality

i've never felt so hollow so terrible how much more suffocating self absorption how much i dont want to eat tomorrow or ever my mouth is sticky my throat constricting on itself i forgot to keep things in pull inward turn in on yourself forgot it wasnt true he doesnt love you he doesnt love you he doesnt love you

people teach you what you want and you fall for it you fucking fool youre being used youre being used youre being used

i want to be beautiful yet i find myself struggling hard against the idea that i ought to be.  i dont think anyone should be criticized for what they wear or how they look.  trends revolting just designed to keep you buying things.  the idea of a flattering article of clothing is so blatantly manipulative its sickening.  the idea of what looks good changes all the time.  in trying to flatter your body all youre doing is following everyone like a dog.  its futile.

and i would like to question why this idea exists that a girl should look good.  from the time were small we learn the need.  show off your curves but stay slim have big boobs and a big butt and small everything else why is there a stereotype for an attractive female or an attractive male why should we ever decide that one type of person is beautiful and another ugly its not true stop believing it its not true i do not have to be thin i do not i do not

but at the same time i treat myself as an exception i must be thin i must i must i must

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Sometimes I hate myself with such a depth I can hardly comprehend it.  I do not know where it ends or where it begins only that it is a part of everything like a limb it is a part of me.  Sometimes I forget the hatred is there - its not gone but I am accustomed to its presence.  I only feel it when it becomes more wild or desperate or painful than usual, like now.  Maybe its from the outside in or the inside out but it doesn't really matter in the end.

Sometimes I think I am not really meant to get along with other people, only listen.  Everyone has their own secrets.

I can't manage and I've always known I can't I cling to things but soon I'll be old and demented and what could be excused when I was young will become inexcusable I will be alone with cigarettes still only watching and listening to other people and holding in my sickness.

So loveliness reigned and stillness, and together made the shape of loveliness itself, a form from which life had parted; solitary like a pool at evening, far distant, seen from a train window, vanishing so quickly that the pool, pale in the evening, is scarcely robbed of its solitude, though once seen.  Loveliness and stillness clasped hands in the bedroom, and among the shrouded jugs and sheeted chairs even the prying of the wind, and the soft nose of the clammy sea airs, rubbing, snuffling, iterating, and reiterating their questions- "Will you fade? Will you perish?" -scarcely disturbed the peace, the indifference, the air of pure integrity, as if the question they asked scarcely needed that they should answer: we remain. 

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

bad night good morning i guess found out some things about a long time ago i could have gone without but i cant cry anymore a few dry sobs and no tears smoking in the dark i hardly seem to feel anything anymore or i guess i do but its not like it used to be

but i went to the bookstore and i bought some nice things i got an old magazine on the woman's liberation movement its rather beautiful.

infinite
stop shaking out lies
like a dog

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