the same line, the same five words.

"it was a loaded question."
it was beautiful.

i wish i had curtains to keep me forgetting it's light outside,

five : seventeen

i think john green really hit it, in paper towns. i'll get to it.

it's like this realm of some surreal swirl that i'm being hurled into- not permanently, but up until may 28. the itching of stryafoam trays, the drips of our grape juice packs, cute little notebooks our parents bought that we turn pages with sticky fingers, hands clapping other hands, laughs catching other laughs, smirks and droopy eyes, terrible posture and bad hair days. whatcha' got there under your seven class periods. pocket full of lunch money, pocket full of cigarettes, pocket full of twitching hands, paper steps taken in paper hallways, being watched by paper eyes that you can see right through until you're seeing the exact way they're looking at you, and all the ones looking from behind and inside them too.

paper friends with paper intentions.

i've liked too many people for the idea's i had of them. i've known too many people who only liked me for the idea of me. and things are always a lot different than we imagine them to be, right margo? how different? worse, or better? the thought vs the real. either way- the two are never quite the same.

i've met a few people who completely lacked depth.
but i've met even more pretending to be oceans.

i don't want to be an ocean, guys. i don't want to be an ocean, god. i don't want to be an ocean. even if it means i'm just a puddle. and i also don't want to believe a window or a mirror is the same thing as what it's showing me.

to infinity and beyond!

/// \\\ /// \\\ elizabeth knows that

the only way to create anything new is for it to be spontaneous and for not even the creater to understand it's meaning

maybe i am content with losing myself in all of the noise, all of the faces and plans, maybe i don't mind staying out late and disconnecting myself from what i've been taught to participate in wanting and creating, and maybe not sleeping until a few hours before i should wake up is fine, and maybe ignoring you both is surprising for my character- but i realize it poses a bit of a problem if i were to not do so.

and maybe her chapped lips match all yours.
and maybe it's the way your jeans fit, like they're swallowing you the way you taste everything cool. how your cardigans hang off those bones like you've perfected the art. and maybe it's all in a glittering implication, that gap before the truth prevails. and so maybe it's the sparkle of a promise right before the fore shadow of a sizzling out. and maybe for a quick sip, you're not a bad drink. what's your damage? right?

but on an adventurous and potentially over-zealous side note: GUESS, JUST GUESS, who will be renting a house with two male accomplices by the name of billy and jared. i'll hitch my wagon to that star. good night, goodbye, au revoir, adieu, and merci boucoup!



i spin some webs and destroy some others,

but you've crawled around in all that i've ever tied myself up in.

and i know that a synopsis can be rather boring

but the blood in my body is pa pu puh pumping at ridiculous rates:

there's something about ambiguously planned friday's that's almost as magical as the feeling of staying up too late, til morning breaks. i sat here in this same spot some hours ago when ledoncie offered a plan. tiffany chain smoked and i leaned against a window, sitting between a door and a chelsea.

what is it about friday nights in a graveyard with flashlights and cigarettes?

what is it about certain situations where my house could be less than fifteen minutes away, but it feels like lightyears between where i am and where else i could be. what is it about ghost hunting, finger tips freezing, amanda's crotch got stuck on the flag pole, holding hands, backs to other backs, foot steps and fits of giggles bubbling out of five pairs of jeans on the prowl, little vanilla milkshakes, jared's car is slow, rain drops flying from windshields, spilled tea, switching rides, making due, pants falling, holes in the front of your jeans, flash lights spying across the wet ground, lights and ashes and singing the lyrics we know,



some things are meant to have a monopoly on. not friendships, not plans, not habits. but moments that have already passed. it's not that i belong to those moments exclusively, it's just that i feel like they really belong to me.

"don't it make you sad to know that life isn't who we are,"

"we are the living dead."

reading nineteen eighty four and listening to the goo goo dolls is beautiful, almost.

hip hip hooray, i graduate in may.

the wolf has run away*

it's a shallow treat,

i was standing in the shower with my shirt and vest still wrapped on,

feeling the solid outline of the lighter in the left vest pocket. vent running, windows with bubbles of light marking me on the legs. there were charcoal specks pouring out my hand, smoke blowing through the curtains, and i stood there squinching like i've got fists for eyes. started singing walcott, with the water covering up the tingling in my toes. the beginning is always the best- the ending is only well liked thereafter, because it is the rite of passage for new beginnings.

i'm so fucking scared, and i just watch you guys lose yourself in this

"i know exactly where i am, where i'm going, where i'll be-" facade. yeah well, quoth the freshman, quoth the sophomore, quoth the junior, quoth the unprepared senior. ( / read: everyone in highschool.) and then you all dig my own hole, burrying me under the things i thus far love, assuming they are what i want to do and live off of, exclusively. and what if they're not, right? and what if they aren't what i'm best at? and what if this isn't what i want, right? what if i don't know, does that make me a senior reject amongst you? because really, i'm thinking it means that i'm taking some shots in the dark, since my guidance counselors have not guided nor counseled. and i'm thinking you're in the same dark. quit acting like i'm the only seveteen year old looking for a source of light i belong to. you're all looking for the light too- if you weren't, i wouldn't be the one making you feel strong when your hopes start to drip. you all hide behind your academics, what your peers have told you is right. and my mother's bathroom will only keep me for so long.

until they start smelling the smoke.

everbody's looking at you like they want to,

like they want to go home with you

i don't know what i want and i lack the confidence to try and find out.

self-decompose: initiate