im not sure what it is right now, but im tired, sad, and rejected. the italicized font wedged between the tight block lettering is somewhat of a relief and allows me to feel as if i am doing something special, writing something important, putting some serious words some profound thoughts onto the paper. i cant tell if i am deluding myself, or if i just dont know any better. i dont know if i like or dislike empty houses, is it nice or barren. are we anything or nothing, and why are there so many loose ends that need tying.

lets do some work on those knots, eh?

and i dont like it when people insult other peoples sexuality or sexual choices. i dont feel bad about not seeing kayla, im fucking sad that she lost her mind and now is a drugged up zombie. where the fuck did that girl go.

why did she pop?

and julie never even told me why. it just fucking ended and it was my decision to do so. she called me back, she attempted to mend and wrote it off as just a bad day. but i was not interested, i opted out. i ended the game. and who lost?

there are skunks about.

i want to fuck that asian boy over there.

vanessa is home, the moon is full.

i am angry at people.

i am frustrated with myself and my situation.

i want to be done with things. i want freedom.

i want night rides.

i am strong

and i am susceptible.

i will smile and i will continue.

somethings i will finish and somethings i will not, no red lines will stop me.

east africa is a hell hole right now, people are fucking dying daily and you are sellling goddamn coffee from there paying the farmers shit and calling it fucking exotic goddamn i am sick of this shit no wonder i got such rage there is such rage to be had and little comfort and peace to be found idealists hold such high expectations that every goddamn time we get together its never going to be perfect because we all might explode.

my head is such a mess i dont have peace or a deep breath and i just want to call it quits or breathe deep breaths drinking nice strong beer ice cold and golden smooth giving me the escape i need without the danger line, tomorrow is bikes beer and ease. thats the day i am making for myself and if it doesnt happen it doesnt but that dont mean im not going to just relax and enjoy what does come. cigarette dont forget that government has arrived and that means nothing is what it seems. i dream of space and astronaut ice cream freeze dried, wrapped packaged wierd aisles wierd spelling hell everything before ramapo was weird and now this is just another thing in the list of challenges fuck jobs and burning off my legs i think that breaking wheels and relief is needed because if i push too hard i might explode and an easy explosion makes a big mess that cannot be surpassed by any amount of paper towels and spray! wheres the spray. i like caramel macchiatos i hate you i hate gender stop being so rigid stop being so power stop overwhelming and controlling me give me the evening to breathe or i might explode all over you like a burnt out ragamuffin wanna be lesbian who cant find freedom in homosexuality because its too much like an ice cream shop in downtown westwood where the same crowd comes in and out again and again and you never get anything but the same flavor in different sizes, smile cause you committed yourself to a life of swimming back and forth in empty pools i kind of hate being alone i love rushing and being caught up i think im just going to leave. and listen to music loudly until i can escape everything amazing that im not thinking just writing.

im just not awake.