woah.

what the fuck?
woah

NJ?

who can deal with this place? am I missing something? life is so fucking hectic i feel like im on crack and all strung out, i want to attend events and all i can think about is india, india, india. Talking with people from India is about the only thing i want to do. most other people feel so fucking not real.

i dont feel real.

and the struggle continues, grows even and becomes so much more than it was. i welcome this.

duh, realization. duh.

its funny to return to jersey and to have the mind, at first, of leaving a problem there in that place, and I am leaving/running from that place.

im scattered and too poor of a multi tasker to really focus i said id write today cause there is a mic tomorrow night and john/renee want me to read, and yeah itd be nice to read but i just hate the fucking box right now and i havent written poetry at all, it feels like some foriegn language that i once knew but now forgotten. its funny to be fluent in something and then let it fall by the wayside, i feel like i forgot how to write poetry. god, i feel fucking pathetic. its fucking poetry for christsake not rocket science you put feeling to word and go.