countless times

no matter what it looks like
all i bring you is love

oh here i am again, edgy as fuck, just waiting for something to come tip me over the edge.
i'm restless, i don't know what i am doing or what to do. i need to finish too many things, i just want it all to be over.

tuesday.
tuesday.
tuesday.

even if that essay doesn't get finished. even if my review goes horribly. it will be done.
this sort of pressure is supposed to ignite my motivation.
instead, i want to watch buffy.
i want to ignore it all and get lost in the sexual tension. in the demons and alternate dimensions and magic. i am actually completely addicted to it.
that could be really fucking depressing if i think about it.
*avoid*


(but it doesn't calm me.
not like
my teacher died
or the telepathic desert.

not like
she said
or keeping an eye on the world going by my window.

and thoughts are ushered away.
things are so lush and large here, i like it here more.

i need to get here, as soon as possible.)


you fade from me like you know i'm dying, you fade from me like i'm already gone
(already bones and born again)


i think the most comforting thing about this is that i know i have nothing to hide here, there is nothing to judge me and no pretenses to hold up, i can be as much of a wanker or dickhead or bitch or depressed little girl or geek or metalhead or indie kid or buffy addict as i want to be. no questions asked. i am sick of trying to be interesting or deep or intelligent or stupid. fuck it. i can call it what i want and i can start new paragraphs where i want and i can tell them all to get fucked if i want.
i'm going to india, fuck it.


and then these pixels will dissolve into the ether and

born again