cutting great neck

if only you could have heard me sigh.

i bet you i have seasonal affective disorder. first off, it runs in my family; second off, this is the second year in a row that i feel dejected in during autumn.

it's terrible--the work, the isolation, the resentments. i am envious of everyone--for their intelligence, for their reputation, for their wit, for their charm... chances are, i envy you for something.

and it's so horrible. i don't know what.

sometimes i just sit there and i feel like somethings been swallowed inside of me and i'm scared to find out what it is, just utterly petrified, and i don't know what to do about it and i'm too scared to tell anyone else, especially someone who i like and cherish but have some kind of concealed resentment towards, jealousy, someone who i'm afraid might overpower me, threatens me. and i wish that this big black swallowed void inside erupts and gushes out rivers of lava and then i'd be liberated from its burden.

it's so hard. multitasking. so many things, and i'm--i feel like all of this is just swallowing me whole, all of this work and these aggravations. i can't wait till the end of the play. i can't wait for freedom, for those few months where i'll just--just be free.

i just want to stop a stranger and tell them to comfort me and just embrace me and tell me that that i'm the best thing.

i want to watch a movie, or something. something good. sit down and put my feet up and just be swallowed by a movie and just watch something for once, not do anything but watch and think, and be mindlessly broiled.

if only people recognized my talent. if only--if only i wouldn't be so pig-assed and egocentrist. if only i wouldn't admit to my errors. if only i didn't have any errors to admit to.

when i wake up at 6 in the morning for swim i don't think. it's like i'm an engine, something that runs and does but never--never thinks, never achieves.

i'm paranoid. i think people are after me. teachers hate me because i'm better than someone else who they like more. or that's what i think. i hate it when i read my own essay and i read someone else's essay and realize that my essay is better but still recieved a lower score than the other person's essay. maybe after reading my essay, the teachers inaugurates a new set of criteria so as to reduce my grade into the shriveling mass of shit that it really doesn't deserve to be.

and sometimes, i think that i'm stupid. and that i know nothing. and that however hard i may try, i fail.

and sometimes, i don't even know why

why

...

funny how beautiful life is.

how nauseatingly repetitive, and yet beautiful.



it's autumn. the cold is a snake and its fangs are slowly swooping into my flesh.

snow: can't wait for you.



i miss airplanes. europe and israel. beirut on itunes; nostalgia from last winter's vacation, athens, petach tikva.



i'm going back home for a week in the start of november.



i miss the feeling of being somewhere else, not nyc, not great neck, somewhere fresh and different and foreign, somewhere with a different language, a mediterranean city with enticing cuisine and riveting architecture and irresistable culture.



romania...

oh romania.



i want to visit you.

i want to visit the streets of my spectral childhood, the place where i never grew up, where i never lived. where my mother was raised.