2005-03-17 - 2:14 p.m.
It's hard to think of quotes when you're in a comp lab, and there are people all around, and you just want to leave. You're hungry and tired, and there's little reason for you to be there at all, but you can't help but think you should be here instead of sitting outside on a bench, or sleeping on a couch in the student union. Anyhow. Hello.
Writing is a solitary thing, and not to be rushed - unless you have a term paper due. Seriously. I'll delete this later, but for now, I'll let this inane crap flow. There are X's on my hands. Faded black X's. And I'm stupid, b/c I think that being straight edge is so wonderful b/c I'm not harming my body. The thing is, I did it all the time. Past tense. I'd eat and throw up, or I wouldn't eat, or I'd cut myself, or I'd purposely slide my nails across my skin to leave raw, red, raised patterns on my arms. Mutilation in temporary form. Even now, these X's on my hands... I go over them with my nails. They're red and black now, darling. Spinning. Dizzy. Reeling. Doll-face. Baby. Sweetheart. Carbohydrate. This is even more nonsensical than usual. And don't even get me started on the K-Stina/L-Sa definition of nonsense, which is total non-sense.
"Draw a line in the sand and then make a plan. Use your camera to spar. Use your guitar." - RENT
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