Dear Sweaters,

I'd like to have you for my own.

Thanks, bye.


"If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it walls, and we will furnish it with soft, red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweller's felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does."

— Jonathan Safran Foer (Everything is Illuminated: A Novel)


3:20 PM

I must not lie in your thoughts as you do mine.
Because then maybe you'll wait for me once in a while.

8:36 PM
I want to jump off the cliff of routine.


7:03 PM

I write,
I write all this for you.


9:18 PM

There is something I must say
I am mad.
If I crush the leaves I've pocketed away for safe keeping,
Will the sentiments before be the same?
Or does it change for me, accordingly, to the nature of my action?


9:52 PM



10:24 PM

See, this is what bothers me: that despite my quick feelings mustered, I cannot quite settle it into words unless I jot it down that instant. It is afterward that the words, they lose me--in the thick of all the gray matter trapped in my head--and I cannot, for the life of me, gain enough thought to pull it out. Unless, of course, I write it down that instant. This is an instant I'm sharing. Once it's over, I would probably never find it. If, in a special case, I happen to come across it once again. There are many mistakes I find in my reasoning, as well. But I don't want to share them with you. Only that I am frustrated. With this and with myself and with all of us.

There are so many things I have to say.
But why I can't say it, I don't know.
Maybe because I think it will hurt me in the end.
Where my barriers become blurred--the one that told me when to stop--it is my superior.
It covers me from humility, from the pangs of Time.

I can tell myself to love less, but I just can't help it.

And maybe, maybe it doesn't matter. None of it.
Hi five if you give a damn, anyway.


Daily II


1:02 PM
Today, in which I pine over a long love affair will include daily email logins, the fancy for bike riding, and an excuse to go on the treadmill and daydream of better days in order to remain calm. An action that I am far too familiar with that can only lead to thoughts of unrequited passion and a bargaining for sensibility.

1:19 PM
Today, in which I regrettably sacrifice an ounce of trust in order to seek knowledge of what is not mine, but in return gained a new, one-sided, trustee bond-ship that has me worry less because there is not much to worry for but only comfort and the consistency of rushing ecstasy.

1:30 PM
Mon cherie, mon capitaine, mon amour!

12:01 AM
Forgiveness, I plead for thee! Though you will never hear from it.

1:33 PM
There is no presence of me here. Nothing to call my name and speak gentle gestures of affinity. Am I just a private folly? For a dear sir knows that only love is folly for the wise.

9:01 AM
Peter Van Raaij
I look at her and say to myself, she is too trusting, especially with a vicious cat at that.

9:03 PM
In which she broods for 1,000 calories instead of waiting.
Either that or skip breakfast.
I did none.


Daily I (7/7-7/12)

Reminiscent of a balloon flapping as it loses air expecting something amazing to happen but after a while you wonder, is that it?

All the girls are singing while the little pudgy boy tries to eat his ice cream as it drips down his red sweater. They pass by her, in a faded sound of giggles and running. She could only reciprocate in a blink.

I wonder what would happen if I mute her; if she would be angry or apathetic. But of course, she would throw a fit! I can see her raging now, desperately cursing at me through emphasized mouthing as she frantically wail her arms about, pounding at my shoulders--hysterically, even. I think I might just snicker.

After looking at profile pictures of couples kissing one questions:
1. Do they always tend to have a camera out for their convenience?
2. And is that gum in his mouth?

After clicking on the exit button, one is left slightly embarrassed for them, feeling awkward for trespassing on something that can only make you blush.

I've come to decide that I don't much prefer people. I even sort of detest myself.

To wish for someone to think me cute again in which there is an imprinted memory of me wrinkling my nose in a cheery, smiley fashion in order to remain, if not interesting, at least darling--I think I'd like that.


The Daschund

The little brown daschund barked into the night--at war with the wind. The lights around the neighborhood turned on and danced around this barking dog. His owners could not calm him, for no tasty snack could persuade him to stop. He yapped with a great superiority, as if he alone was there to defend his post. Oh, but he was quite incessant, making the city lights shake irritably as they tried to go back to sleep. He kept barking until finally the restless wind gave a low growl back. Taken aback, the little daschund whimpered in retreat and the wind continued on...