"we could abandon all pretense of virtue. we could make the angels sing."

thanks, chelsea. i haven't forgotten that one.

emily's letters. i keep reading. emily's letters. hebrew poetry and i'm walking around in her thoughts "with that ridiculously heavy backpack on your shoulders." smile. and i miss using the word "lord" to express. strength of emotion.

i wonder if

they love me

and if

i have the energy required

to deserve that rare touch. oh me.

more, i'm sure. i just don't know where to begin.

mood, as it doesn't fit in that little mood box. lust. sometimes all you really need is a few lines of poem. it can be better that way. for now i guess.

i guess i'm hurting a little bit. but i feel like at least i have feelings. oh that didn't make much sense. sigh. i don't care right now.

discussions about math equations and alan greenspan on street light corners. orange sweatered boys. innocence and dirt. freezing inside. soaked from rain. leave me alone. followed. by. glances. a flash of what a person maybe is. oh there it's. shut again. sad in the best way.

it's been over two years since anyone has put their lips to my eyelids. i'm always startled.

i want to love somebody. oh, sad.

my heart's gripping too tightly. soreness on both ends.

in a blue dress with hair pulled away from the face (it's growing again) with an ill matching handkerchief, simply because. i didn't feel like fighting with my hair this morning (it's been sneaky lately. it sticks up in the air a lot. grr.). sneezing around campus. hear the conversation about colds. "well, if i have it, you do then," he says. she's slight and willowy, pale blonde hair and skin. pale eyes clouded gently. faded jeans. pretty. she nods.

i hope they are happy taking care of each other.

oh i'm tired.