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Sometimes I feel as if my soul is very sad. 

Jynx me something crazy
Thinking an event through
Then I'm as smooth as the skin
Rolls across the small of your back
It's too bad it's not my style
If you need me
I'm out and on the parkway
Patient and waiting for headlights
Dressed in a fashion that's fitting to the
Inconsistencies of my moods

It's times like these where silence means everything
And no one is to know about this
It's times like these where silence means everything
And no one is to know about this


you'll hear from me soon

Sometimes,

bombs fall quietly.
This is entirely random. But this excerpt explains an entire semester of studying about sexuality/gender in America. And in a way, I think it hit home.

 "The body as home, but only if it is understood that bodies can be stolen, fed lies and poison, torn away from us. They rise up around me - bodies stolen by hunger, war, breast cancer, AIDS, rape; the daily grind of factory, sweatshop, cannery, sawmill; the lynching rope; the freezing streets; the nursing homes and prison. African-American drag performer Leonard/Lynn Vine, walking through his Baltimore neighborhood, called a "drag queen faggot bitch" and shot six times. Matt Sheppard - gay, white, young - tied to a fence post in Wyoming and beaten to death. Some bodies are taken for good; other bodies live on, number, abandoned, full of self-hate. Both have been stolen. Disabled people cast as supercrips and tragedies; lesbian/gay/bisexual/trans people told over and over again that we are twisted and unnatural; poor people made responsible for their own poverty. Stereotypes and lies lodge in our bodies as surely bullets. They live and fester there, stealing the body.

The body as home, but only if it is understood that the body can be reclaimed. The bodies irrevocably taken from us: we can memorialize them in quilts, granite walls, candlelight vigils; remember and mourn them; use their deaths to strength our will. And as for the lies an false images, we need to name them, transform them, create something entirely new in their place, something that comes close and finally true to the bone, entering our bodies as liberation, joy, fury, hope, a will to refigure the world. The body as home."
It's so hard for me to keep up with these things lol.

I have class at 9:30 and I'm up at 7. Which is awesome because I went to bed at like ...2. But I don't feel well and I think it was something I ate. And being sick is the last thing that I need to happen.

My weekend went a lot better than I was expecting it to. And now I just feel stupid for being stressed out over it. But what can you do? But I love Nicole a lot. And miss her already.

But it's good to be back in the city. I just don't want to go to class :(

life.

There are so many other things that I should be doing right now, yet at the same time, there's nothing else I feel like I'd rather be doing. I miss writing or being able to express my thoughts in a coherent way for once. I've gotten so use to just trying to talk things through or using body languages that I've completely abandoned sitting down and being able to stay still for a little while. I'm in a perpetual state of movement where if I don't say what I want to say immediately, I feel like it'll surpass me entirely.

I would start by saying I'm heartbroken, but that's hardly where it begins. A week and five days ago, my world felt like it crashed. But that doesn't seem to do the feeling justice at all. By saying that my world felt as though it crashed, I mean that for days I watched everything change (for the worse), I struggled to keep my head level, or at least above the water, I screamed to be heard, and watched as she turned away despite it all. I've written about it once. One time. And I've tried to explain it countless other times. It's probably the hardest thing I've ever tried to do.

How do you explain how you feel when the person you've been in love with for years decides that it's not enough? That the complications that set you back carry more weight than the love that you feel. How do you explain that you feel like you've been lied to? How do you try to explain the questions that refuse to stop racing through your head about the mistakes you may have made, or anything you could have done to alter the way things are now? How do you figure out what was real? How do you figure out what would have been good enough? And how do you figure out what to do next?

I've given up. I figured out that I couldn't stand, oscillating between the decision to fight for the person who let me do or to leave. I couldn't leave - I can't. I want to punch her. I want to see her. I want to lay next to her. I want to be able to act normally, like we always do, like nothing was ever wrong. I want to tell her I love her and that there's no one else that even compares. I want to tell her that I wish I was good enough and that things weren't this hard. I want to take back all the things I said to her. I want to shake her. To wake her up and tell her that we're supposed to be together and that this is just stupid. I want to show her things all the things that I know are true in my heart - that we were supposed to win.

I want to stop crying. I want to stop feeling like I need her. I want to stop feeling like I've been wrong for years. I want to stop contemplating whether or not she was it, or if there's someone else.

For once, I just want to be right.

Pretty new layout, and I've decided to keep this thing relatively protected from the public.

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