i am everything i'm not.

this semester's mantra

EYE ON THE PRIZE.
EYE ON THE PRIZE.
EYE ON THE PRIZE.

VP's Honor Roll. Next up, PRESIDENT'S honor roll. 3.8 you are mine.

We got married. We got married because that's what we were supposed to do. (Right?) (Right?) There it all was, laid out before us. The whole plan and all that was needed was to follow the directions. God, you fucked it all up, didn't you? It was a left at that light. (A left, you fucking idiot). I guess we can make up for lost time by speeding.

Well fuck, we totally missed the point.

Right?

the bad old days

I know what you want from me.
I can see you watching from way over there.
I know your kind. I know your type. Too bad for you I've got them on my side.




I think I'm in love. It's been a year. I hope this isn't 0 for 3.

for better or for worse

i've been too busy experiencing life to be reflecting on it.


everyone is a photographer these days.

we looked

He walked in and caught me in a moment of weakness, fingers locked, elbows resting on my knees, eyes in defeat. I was at a loss. He let me pretend everything was OK for a grand total of twenty seconds. He wasn't fooled, and that's why we remained as close as we are. "What?" His back was turned, opening a drawer and doing something. "I'm just so tired..." I said, looking at the ceiling. Even his back was too intimate to see. "So tired of what?" he missed nothing. "So tired of being the villain, when in reality, I'm the victim."

"Ha."

The cold, harsh laugh barked out of his throat in an uncharacteristic manner.

"I could have him killed."





I looked at my feet again. I didn't say no.

well, it was what it was

I am so homesick. Every day for the last three weeks I've gotten in my car and looked west. For some reason I'm fixated on this place, this space I used to hate. Like someone or something there is going to save my life.