10.17.2001
 
Ever had the feeling that while a certain song is playing?

It feels like someone's unwrapping your intestines from the inside. Crossing the tublets of gore one over the other like you would unbraid hair. But the emptiness in your stomach isn't lonely as gentle hands massage the walls of the cavern...

I can't stand this masochistic pain anymore. Fuck unrequited love, I want the real thing.

Ms. Hoffman took the class outside for a reading of a chapter of The Dao of Pooh which was promptly followed by everyone working on their vocab outside. I eventually got out of the sun and sat in the shade...

Lauren let me read the little black book of poetry she keeps with her friend. Read some of her poetry and prose, all about a certain guy. And I can't stand feeling full yet empty.

Fuck... it's that song again...

Looks like I'll spend another afternoon locked in my room lying on my bed contemplating whether or not to call DJ just to say "what's up."

I can't function like this. At this very moment I have absolutely no self-control over my emotions besides the shield I put up during school. But that doesn't matter if I can't focus on the task at hand.

Funny... I remember a time when schoolwork was an escape from the real world and an excuse from communicating with anyone. Now I do want to communicate, but I've been instilled with my sis' paranoia of the telephone. Granted that I call and get called a lot, but when I'm striking up a conversation with someone I'm not comfortable with... I'm worse than a toadstool.

But now school has taken a back seat. Fuck, I can't even draw/ write with all this goddamn confusion. My art has been forsaken for the chills and uncontrollable convulsions... but I best end it there.

And I still have to practice heavily for my piano. Fuck fuck fuck...

This isn't procrastination. I'm trying to salvage my sanity at this point.


. . . . . posted:||5:01 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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