jheti: (hi christopher)
I don't know why I try anymore; I don't have anything to say. Nolo contendere.

I always wake up a little different when I stay up past three, watching the numbers neon white climbing higher and higher.

I've. Gone through a lot of studying, and I'm rereading A Little Princess, and in fact have switched to reading children's books for convenience, because it's the only way I can get a story done in the amount of time I have to myself anymore.

The real reason I used to write so much is a simple one: I wake up in the morning hating everything.

The icon is apropos of nothing; I just wanted to use it.

We're all basically alone,
Despite what all the studies have shown
What was mistaken for closeness
Was just a case for mitosis

A friend of mine pointed me at Andrew Bird, and this is his only song that I like. It's the percussion. And the alienation, but what's amazing about it is the percussion.

It was anything but hear the voice
ANYTHING but hear the voice
That says that we're all basically alone

Swing their fists at anything that looks like easy prey

I hate spring and I hate that everything is cold and blue.

I'm so afraid of sunsets, did I tell you, I go indoors and wait for the night, wait for the night, I'm waiting for the night to fall, when everything is bearable.

I wrote a fistful of poems, and they weren't awful.

That's all she wrote.


jheti: Inara from Firefly, by Angiefaith. (Default)

August 2012

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