it’s 2009. big things are going to happen, i want this year to be good. i rang in the new year with you all screaming around me, at me, at each other, whatever, and the whole time i was just thinking about how my life has always been about seduction and no security. opening a jar of sunshine is just not enough for me these days, and i hadn’t realized it until just now. it’s not even really sunshine, more just like a random burst of light appearing and disappearing just as quickly. i need to go away and stop being so angry all the time.
i didn’t write in december. i was too busy being swallowed whole.
i wanted all these things to happen, then they didn’t happen and here i am. it’s stupid in the sense that nobody dies from a lack of these things, any of these things, yet i am dying inside and don’t know how to stop it. i mean, i have ideas but they’re not taking me anywhere; instead i’m laying here poking bones and touching the smooth skin on my face. i am lacking and i am dying. i am laying facedown and knowing that i left my nosebone in the upper righthand corner before i put the padding on, in a meeting of seams. it’s under me right now and i want so very badly to lift up all these stupid layers and get it out but like i said, i am lacking. there is football loudly on the television, a frantic feeling for no reason. i’ve been questioning my true intentions lately.
