about someone whose grip on life is so vague that to see her you have to look hard. that’s me. i’m the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. just like the cheshire cat, someday i will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, that kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant.

i am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who looks so very vibrant and shimmery, but who is in fact soon going to be gone. when you look at that picture again, i want to assure you, i will no longer be there.

i will be erased from history.

that summer i am just thirteen and everything sucks.

be careful of your heart

imagine dragging all that bloody furniture

i am alone in the house, the electricity is off, i can’t get the lights on, i keep bumping into things, i am alone in the dark, i am alone in the world, and i start screaming.

homesickness is just a state of mind for me. i’m always missing someone or someplace or something, i’m always trying to get back to some imaginary somewhere. my life has been one long longing.

we went to alaska and we froze to death

12 august 2000 on the plane 4:37pm toronto time from gatwick will arrive yyz 1/2 hour earlier than scheduled. i am over-tired. i can’t wait to see my family and friends i know i’ll start sobbing like a fagretard. i can’t wait for a silk cut.

tan workout lose weight tone down weigh 60kgs last i checked calm down relax minimize lifestyle simplify clean room yoga work on writing techniques and skills etc be happy get internet.

i can’t wait to land and depart from this flying deathtrap in the clouds it makes me vulnerable to what could be the worst possible happening. honestly what would you do? what could you do for the prevention of it falling out of the sky, besides that of finally seeking faith and screaming your looney little head off…

i ate your candy then i stole your sunshine.

why do they always play this fookin’ song b’cos it makes me horny baby i’d better watch what i say i can’t help it, i’m brilliant i write like a retard where’s the privacy here?

i’m all over all over all over i’m all over all over all over you’re the only one…

i look out the doorway onto the street and i think i won’t be here three hours from now so it doesn’t matter i will be away from this place this store and life i had to go somewhere with the premise of actually acomplishing something other than getting baked on the beach

all my dreams are made of chrome

bring in the machines.

bring in the black boxes.

prozac becomes viewed as a silly drug for crybabies.

you are only a dead star

the ideal cocktail party monologue

monkeyass

depression is about as close as you get to somewhere between DEAD and ALIVE, and it’s the worst.

like carpenters they want to know which tools, they never ask why build.

the insight will come