I guess that I just always assume that people dont like me too much. I am quick witted with my assumptions, I make them and change them on the dime and am convinced in my conniving mind that eventually I am always right. My assumptions, may I add are always negative. I thrive on negativity because then when I am surprised by the results of my interaction with someone, I take it with more joy than one usually would.
on this note, I feel loved- I feel like I dont have friends. IN reality, I have just because so tenderly close with my co-workers, that I realize tonight that work has brought me to them via fate ( if I would dare announce) rather than just being friendly with them because they are always around. I keep getting these displays of their affection and I just want to bawl my eyes out at every single one of them because I just dont understand why anyone would ever like me enough to put all that effort into me.
48 hours till I leave.

soon there will be no more infinite bus rooms where I doze and my chins drop and dribble down and I smash my head on every curve and bump. There will be a lot of things that I miss about Halifax, but it seems silly to say they will be small like reading the psst's in the coast, and wandering into the bookmark. I will miss the smell of the ocean and just the smells that make up the city.
I find myself missing LAST fall, which in retrospect I am always missing time and maybe not places. Fall in Halifax is always this sort of completely sensible pleasure, with scarves and mitts and red cheeks. Its the most perfect time, but alas, I will experience it plenty again. Last fall just felt so sensible and easy and like I was just happy and things were in place, with my busy schedule and bed time sleepovers.
We shouldnt dwell too much on the past because it doesn't open any doors to the future and I look forward to weekends in paris and weekends in Slovakia, and weekends in Istanbul perhaps. I plan on doing a lot of reading, perhaps purchasing a bicycle, taking a lot of pictures and trying to smile as much as I can at everyone.

I feel so fucking uninspired and angry. I get bouts of anger that creep in like bad cold fog on summer days that I just wanted to spend at the beach. it creeps in and my mood shifts to anger and doom and gloom and I want to pick fights with everyone.
its like one mental shift can carry the outlook of the whole evening. and tonight is the night that I hate my hair, and body and face and mostly my mind which does not feel filled with intellect, but rather oppression, the same pattern over and over, shifts of images that have already been done, illustrations already carried out to resemble words and lost direction, lack of maps, lack of money for GPS. this is not the night where I feel good, but where I feel obsessive and taunted.
Sleep only holds hazards these nights, just as something psychedelic would. its holds the power to harness my thought and turn it into a variety show of nightmares. I suppose I am obsessive with the things dark, yet perhaps I only hold such regard due to my imminent and infnite fear of all.
god help and hold us all.

someday I dream about giving back to the sea what i takes from me
the cold air that makes me lungs gasp and my head instantly pounds
but i long for the quiet inside that makes me bide my time below

cocaiiiine

some music just makes me want to fuck everyone.
BJM right now is doing me.

she found him hiding under her grandma's quilt
one that was bought at a fair long ago
he was hiding and outside it snowed
she had never felt so cold,
despite the heat of the burning wood floors.
he couldnt apologize
he knew it would be right
but his reasons for his actions left her mystified
and all this time she could only think
to turn his heart the cold granite
she felt
not even growing warmer in the hottest sun
she felt no emotion
wouldnt speak to anyone
of her 6 sisters while they turned down their cloaks
in shame in the village where they had all grown
into ladies who were shamed by the youngest one
who had followed her hearts misery and shrouded herself
into the walls on the well from which they all drank
and they could taste her blood every morning and night
it would never dry
yet the well stayed cold
thanks to the cold granite that was jammed in her throat.