sentences that i like:

'm stressing and drinking and reading people's books theyre writing, I'm getting offers, jobs, drinks, nights, no money though, Im wearing my male roomate's cheap mondays, im smoking, im drinking, I'm reading in parcs, Im investing in ice cream, I;m staying out till morning hours on boat clubs, Im smoking, Im forgetting to eat, I'm telling everyone my life story, I'm making up lots of crap, I'm sleeping in a 3 tiered bunk bed, Im being told Im pretty and cute, Im brushing it off, Im putting on eyeliner, I'm not showering, Im looking greasy, Im skipping mass to smoke cigarettes in graveyards with lovers.( Paris, 2007)

Theres been some tangible collapsing.
We choose mind over heart matters, oui? ( july 2007)

I fantasize and lust about clothes as much as a 17 year old boy fantasizes about his girlfriends pussy ( his girlfriend isnt putting out). I spend hours looking at clothes a day, and I dont just mean at the cotton jungle. If i won the lottery I would spend all the money flying places and buying clothes. and clothing accessories. and shoes. ( august 2007)
I'm lucky to figure things out for myself, im lucky to depict and detect whats going on in everyone else's eyes and ears. Everytime I stomp my knees crack a little bit and after weeks of not a crack, I'm cracking up.
literally. if you hear a wild shrieking laughter and cackles its probably and most likely I. i meet and i greet and i read and absorbe- it all really affects me for better or worse. I frquently make predictions and feel like nostradamus once they are confirmed. I never inflict pain on anyone else because i am so desperatly afraid of karma that i clench my teeth and rattle my smiles at everyone. I seek out the lives of saints, and that poem I wrote so long ago is more relevant today than ever. my own mind knows what will come of me and yet it takes me a long time to accept it sometimes ( SEPTEMBER 2007)

My hair feels flat and my eyes and temples are aching something spectacular. but my mind is saying that I shall never love you, and that I never loved you, oh but how I loved you, and you and you were forgotten and so was the 3 before but the one before that how I ached for him too. That being said I know my past and I see my future. I am standing by the looking glass, and I still want to be part of those fantasy worlds. there isn't a space big enough to hold my heart, nor my complications and implications- Ive kept witting them down on pieces of paper bound by red leather- I like anything red, I am wholly red. But those pages of mine number around 100's and millions that Ive read, re-read and analyzed.
I really just want a fucking cigarette, a bathtub and a weekend with nothing to do but be alone. This bathtub would be found somewhere in the marais too, I've got a kicking to go where my mind and heart is telling me to, because for once they are forged together.( october 2007)

Somedays i feel like everything comes easy and i say so when really there are pools of sweat in every hollow of my body, every crease of my skin. I had one strange night to think, and i unfortunately did when the reality of my situation caught up with me. When I am content I sit like a bird perched for flight and I can do anything. Some days i don’t quite feel the same wind-it’s too cold, I don’t want to get up from bed (really my wings froze, like the sparrow in the Happy prince). So I lay in bed or sit on my perch ( big windows that don’t open, how could I even fly out from there? I can’t; I am forced to walk out the door. And I sulk, I sulk terrible. Horrible awful stinky sulks where I feel like a spoiled princess because I’m not in Montparnasse on the boulevard Raspail and things aren’t so easy for me, or on me, and I dwell upon everything that I brush off when I talk to people.

sometimes we would make holes in the ocean, in little caves like children we fought to be the princess, we would fight for the best horse besides the brook that we would jump over. Valiant efforts, memories bought and folded inside pretty little books ribbons in my hair, and crazy cotton skirts with raspberry stains. My lips tasted like apricot juice, and I would hide inside those caves that were really just underwater jungles of weeds like the mermaid. and then I would lose my breath underneath and I would flail till i broke free because i always had to be the strong one. But the ocean, the lake, the river would remind me that they had made the whole of me and I was like a mermaid, never completely free of the tide sweeping by me, and here is my childhood laying in the grave of the pigeon i buried with a great deal of sadness because i didnt understand why he would not fly. I made him a tombstone out of a milk carton, 2%.