Left the book I was reading in La Fortuna so now I’m rereading Atonement and can’t stop picturing stupid Kiera Knightley and stupid James McAvoy instead of just making up faces for the characters. Like when you want to do the crossword on the back of the cereal box but your little brother’s beat you to it. Sigh.
The house is quiet. My parents and I watched Jane Eyre this evening. I’d almost forgotten how it makes me want to call you darling with my legs around your waist, kissing your eyelids until your crows feet show. I can be romantic when I’m in the mood. It’s just when the world starts that the spell gets lifted and I get frustrated.
Nothing to do tomorrow but run and put photographs in an album and work on my EP. It’s so satisfying to finally have five songs in my pocket with all the control in my hands. Letting him do it was like letting someone else arrange my bedroom, and that just would not do. God, I am controlling.
I’ve been listening to a lot of new music lately, even some female artists, M.I.A’s new album when I go to the park, Milo when I’m moody, lots of M’s. Mmm – I made that sound out loud.
I live in an ice cream cone, waffle, and the bottom’s getting soggy. I’d call if I thought anything would be better than it has been until now.
There are less than two months till I leave.
Last night I lay awake listening to the pond frogs and a dog from down the street barking at nothing or something, it didn’t matter. My thighs were warm till I rolled over, flipping my pillow, curling my toes at the cold of untouched sheets. I pulled my stuffed puppy closer, slowly rubbing my thumb across his ear the way I have done since I was little and his ear was still soft. I could see my laptop slowly blinking across the room. Other than that, it was dark.
My thoughts ran their familiar track, beginning calmly, passing worries and frustrations, ending in determination to change things. For example: my sister’s given up talking to me again. I wish her silence bothered me more so that I might try to fix things or at least wave truce but I have finished five books in the past three weeks and also I no longer worry about being fluffy and soft because I think I am in all the right places and I love myself naked more than clothed, so there’s that.
Tonight, the air conditioning’s up too high. I know when Mum and Dad drink too much because they get stroppy and controlling about the air conditioning. There are no cold places to be found in my white sheets. I’ll have to start from one side and work my way to the other which will mess with my pillow cave, but it’s worth the trouble for cold dreams.
I have had so many nightmares lately. This one woman’s eyes won’t get out of my head. And the fingers that grew and shrank and kept fighting to claw me, horrendous.
I met a man in Costa Rica who persists in his affections. I can’t decide on an hourly basis whether to encourage them or not. They pass the time but my interest is negligible. That sentence describes too many aspects of my life.
I often have to remind myself to unclench my jaw. It’s a bad habit. My head suffers.
If I know I have to wake up early in the morning I’ll often hold my pee until I fall asleep. I wake up faster when I’m desperate for the toilet. It’s science, bitches.
I’ll follow you fucking anywhere if you show me something beautiful. I mean at least your blog and probably your photostream. Are those considered places yet? Real or not, I’ll go there with you.
Swear to doG, wearing retainers gives me weird dreams. It’s like the pressure on my gums and teeth gets into my head and swirls things around a bit. Discomfort penetrates more than skin. Last night it was this bald, gnome-y looking dude with eyes that didn’t blink and breath like a hangover. Just staring at me – he caught my brother and wouldn’t let go, still staring.
Some people look so perfect when suspended in film and so strange in the light of the day. I keep itching this spot on my shoulder. It’s not even that irritated. I think it’s just habitual by now. Scratch scratch scratch don’t touch but I wanna stay down fingers but no but stay but but but scratch.
How many times do you think to yourself I should be sleeping? Once a week? Twice? Every night? Is it normal if we all do?
My bags are packed. My iPod’s charging.
feeling this really foreign obligation to run in the mornings and actually fulfilling it. today was meant to be my rest day but i couldn’t stop obsessing so i just got out of bed and ran anyway. who the hell am i.
agreeing to attend church this morning with my parents but literally only because (and secretly because) i have a really rad outfit planned that i haven’t been able to wear yet. that’s more like it.
this is the strangest summer i swear.
currently missing my hair its softness its length running my fingers through it washing it
i run every day now and feel guilty when i even think about missing. i finally got up to four miles this evening but tomorrow morning i hope to do another four and then five tomorrow night when i get back from nashville
rereading saturday by ian mcewan and just gasping at its pages sometimes because like it’s so beautifully written
whatever whatever whatever
my parents keep finding ways not to tell me they think my music is too sad which upsets me cause they aren’t listening to the words and the words are all i fucking care about
sometimes when i light candles in my room i wake up with a scratchy throat but it’s totally worth it to go to sleep smelling like that
last night i finished off two bottles of wine mostly by myself but with a little help from my lady and gent but then I smoked fourteen cigarettes and was in a total haze for the first eight hours of the day
idk idk idk
i miss chattanooga every day but mostly i think i miss living on my own accord with the food i want in the house and the people i want in the house and the quiet hours the quiet days and nights and breakfast under your gaze and coffee shops to cuddle into
my family is wonderful but i am afraid when im not alone