the days are full of work; my hardest task is remaining calm. many of them i love with my entire self, meme moi complete. even the ones that i do not love, those that make me furious, i love at times.
the dishonesty, the front is what really gets me. the childlike games, the manipulative attitudes, the plateau of ego are the ones that scare me, that i don't even attach myself to, that i pretend cannot even see me.
the industry holds a lot of gems- little boys with tiny dreams and grandiose, undemanding ideals: to not be someone, to not have that relationship, to not put up with that shit.

I went to detroit to confuse myself with another boy, when i just found out that i don't need it. i love to play these silly games with myself, see how easily i can lose my head. I lean to uncertainty and beg for honesty, I tip and tumble, wobble and fall down. I don't want what they have, I don't want the kisses on the cheek, the love-stoned stares. I want my fucking head on my shoulders. Uncertainty, mania, insecurity, manipulation; the names of my enemies tattooed on my forearms, always three steps ahead of my planned days, shining in a room full of lamps while I fuck up in the darkness.
I'll rid myself of it. I'll take a deep breath and forget about your existence.

25 or 13

I spend a lot much time thinking of things that should be said, and how I should say them, to my little sister.
I spend a lot of time translating things in my head to French.
I spend a lot of time thinking about boys.
I like to plan my days irrationally, obsessively.
I know that if I really, really want something, I can have it. If I wanted to be the best parent in the world or work in Kenya on native grasses, I could do that.
My big problem right now is figuring out what I want.
I think that thing is the perfect person for me. I think that I am starting to understand that this takes a lot less energy than I have been putting into it. I think I am starting to understand that this could take years of waiting, and perserverance, and passing up, and a lot more thinking.
Maybe I should be concentrating solely on being happy. That seems too big, though. Maybe the perfect person thing is just another thing I will be crossing off the list of things that can make me happy.
I worry too much. I worry about my mother. I miss my father.
My sister is the most amazing person in the world.
I think I'm starting to comprehend which relationships I should be putting energy into and which I should leave alone. As in, my family is pretty f**king crazy, but there are some big rewards to being tight with some of them. There are some big deficits to trying to be tight with others. And boys are not as important as I have thought they were, all these years. They're just not. Sorry.
I don't have the urge to travel like I used to now that I actually have relationships with some of my family members and really, really good friends. I will probably leave the country for a couple of years after I graduate, regardless.
I drank for a year like a normal youngish twenty something would drink, and that was enough for me. I'm so happy to not really drink anymore.
Sometimes I am not really the strong person. Sometimes I am weak and need someone to tell me that I'm fine and perfect just because (thanks D).
I love Lilian Viern Snively, Robin Grace Doss and Sydney Scarbrough more than I could possibly tell you. My love for my sister, however, is vast and frightening in its breadth.
I really should not go to Detroit. But I will, just to be nice.