I don’t need to take pictures of myself in just my underwear to get noticed. Take notes, hoe. Maybe if you had self-respect, people would actually appreciate you, and not your boobs.　

The day I become single (which I hope doesn’t happen), don’t be surprised when you ask what happened and I say it’s because of me.
Because chances are, it will be because of me.

I fuck everything up… story of my life. 　

You shall be my roots and
I will be your shade,
though the sun burns my leaves.

You shall quench my thirst and
I will feed your fruit,
though time takes my seed.

And when I’m lost and can tell nothing of this earth
you will give me hope.
And my voice you will always hear.
And my hand you will always have.

For I will shelter you.
And I will comfort you.
And even when we are nothing left,
not even in death,
I will remember you. 

I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote something, I still have nothing because so much of sum’things has always been and always will be you.

I miss you. 　

“He wanted to go to bed with her immediately, pull the sheets around them, dig his toes into the mattress, her heals pressing against his calves, her fingers running rivers along his sides. But these days fantasies flourish and die like summer flies.”


[Typed ]

March 18, 1989　

Perhaps in the margins of darkness, I could create a son who is not missing; who lives beyond even my own imagination and invention; whose lusts, stupidities, and strengths carry him farther than even he or I can anticipate; who sees the world for what it is; and consequently bears the burden of everyone’s tomorrow with unprecedented wisdom and honor because he is one of the very few who has successfully interrogated his own nature. His shields are instantly available though seldom used. And those who value him shall prosper while those who would destroy him shall perish. He will fulfill a promise I made years ago but failed to keep.
 

[Typed ]

December 15, 1974 　

Who has ever killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share.

[C]

September 10, 1970

I don’t understand why I’m not single at this point. Why hasn’t he broken up with me? I fuck up way too often for him to stick around like that. There must be a catch. There’s no way in hell someone could deal with a person like me for this long. There’s just no fucking way. I love him for that. He sticks around no matter what. But why…

“What miracle is this?

This giant tree. It stands ten thousand feet high

But doesn’t reach the ground. Still it stands.

Its roots must hold the sky.”

I miss having lots of friends. Now my group of friends is extremely little, and now there’s barely ever anything for us to do or speak about. And I doubt they notice it as much as I do, but we’re all drifting apart. I’m not saying names but some of them have changed and it’s not for the better. I bet I changed too, but I guess it’s cause we’re all getting older and more mature.
It’s so weird. 　

Thanks to  all of you, I’ve been debating of isolating myself.
Thinking of getting rid of my laptop.
My cellphone.
Not going out except for school.
I’m so done.

No matter what I have to say, there’s always someone saying some dumb shit to me. Before, it would never faze me, but seeing it all the time pisses me the fuck off. Do you really have nothing better to do than to write some dumb bullshit to me, anonymously?! C’mon, seriously, grow the fuck up. I cannot do anything to you. I’m a very small, weak person. I can’t hurt you no matter how hard I try. Also, stop complimenting me if you’re just gonna point out some shit about me right after and make feel even more insecure about myself. What’s the point of complimenting someone if you’re just gonna point out their insecurities after? It’s like setting a fire and expecting a drop of water to make it go away. It won’t. So just stop.

I’ve said enough. 

As much as people tell me that I’m pretty, there’s always those several few that point out the reasons I seem to think otherwise.