cutting great neck

"you left a highlighter moon on the machine in the gym,
shining against the black curve of the plastic bike like
a broken half-petal. you’re so careless with your pens
and with your books. you jog out and find yourself following
a woman who looks like your mother, her red hair
and complacent straddling stroll a stark cue
that reminds you of everything but what you’ve forgotten.
you pause by the grass that grows from
cement. you wonder who had planted it there, who had
wanted it to grow tender green strings— the closer and closer
they are to each other, the quicker they die."

why did i ever think
that i could this thing.

so this is how it must be:
whole worlds built to separate me
from the ones i love.
i wish i were with you tonight,
and that we would crumple together
into a blanket
and cover each other up
to the shoulders.
this trumpet of a lonely city
has never rang so softly
even in the forest of my mind;
it’s never learned its song,
never listened to its own beat.
when would we lie together
until the morning took us
away? why am i the one
who always has to live
so far from everyone?

label me: moving, sad

i woke up on my first morning in san diego--two and a half years after leaving it for a much colder place--and noticed the sky. window screen half-opened into a billowing gradient of blue: bright, unfiltered blue--what blue will look like in heaven, its shades streaming in and out of one another cool-like and hypnotic.

blue is an honest color--yet here it seems fake, like a red watermelon's crust, misleading in its simplicity, in its beauty.

the sun is just fading, and i'm outside and the cold feels surreal, my exposed fingers wrapped in cold with each and every letter key that they reach to press. the sun is just fading from behind silhouettes of black palm trees and tall bushes; the trunk of a date palm is reflected in the pool, draped in christmas lights.

chilly.



sometimes i think about san diego. i think about the fact that i despised it, that i felt alone and misunderstood and rejected much of the time--that every house and every storefront and every person was a facade, a false face, a blue sky above an ugly, dejected world: and i would think about san diego, and i'd ask myself if i really believed all of what i used to believe--maybe i had simply lied to myself about it, or maybe i actually misunderstood san diego instead of it misunderstanding me.

it is a tedious, sad little place--i can see that now, sleeping in a house that looks exactly like mine did, and only a few blocks away from that house. it was a cruel place. where unending, circuitous nothing happened; where the streets spread themselves even with a disgusting yearning for space--pavement, pavement, oh so much endless pavement, like spilled water that never stops expanding.

and now with my fingers bitten by cold and the sky burning in a purple, starless white-noise, i can safely say that san diego was what i've always suspected. i hated it then, and i hate it now; its flaws more than make up for its good attributes.

sometimes i'd sit there and think about moving. moving to san diego, from san diego--a place that defined my personality more than any other place i've ever called home. and i'd think about san diego, and what it did to me.

sometimes i'd sit there and brood. and i brood, and i brood--and i wonder where my friends have gone and where have they always been for me.

and when i come to a place like this, i realize that friendship is the most important thing in the world.

sometimes, i'd sit there, and ask myself if i've ever really experienced it.

label me: friends, moving, sad, san diego, sun, travel, weather

write something that no one will read,
that no one will think was written. upset
that she’s leaving
and that we’re left to fend for ourselves,
claustrophobic
without patience
godless, yet fearful

these are the moments
that try souls, like a battered
body after a long hike,

with only oneself,
nobody you want around
and knowing that this
is what you’re gonna have to live with
for the rest of your life,
for the rest of these months
and weeks
and days and hours and minutes,

sometimes
overcome with emotion,
sometimes overcome
with loss, with the loss
of something physical, tangible
like the folds in a forgotten sofa,
the wrinkles of hands;
and something
mental,



because someone hates you, and they think
you don’t know.
overcome
i write something
so angsty i’d throw up reading it
only for the sake that perhaps
i’d gain some ill-gained sympathy
and that could help me
move on.

i’d never want someone
to ask me what happened

because sometimes
everything happened.

sometimes even the merest loud laugh
rattling from the kitchen
could set your soul off trying.

label me: loneliness, loss, moving, poem, sad

these green trees greenest than green pour around my house like an insulating blanket. they're one solid dark green color that packs into this window like a thick liquid grime.




---



an old french song comes up on my itunes.

i miss a world i forget. i miss being five, traveling through europe with my family, those auburn stone-laden alleys, the blue july noons, so clear and distinctly airy, light.



i miss what i would never be able to do and be and have again. i miss those moments that seemed to wash away from me like water. i miss old friends, old houses, old lives; and the new ones that never came to be.

label me: miss, sad

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

...

label me: fall, sad, social life