June 26, 2001

Shitty

Unjustifed desolation today. I feel like shit. I want to see Ryan but can't see Ryan and he doesn't understand and neither do I and Mom will be home soon to take me to work (hence the argh) and he is gonna visit me but it'll probably just make me more miserable. He understands about Saturday, but now he thinks I don't want to touch him at all. He says it's like I don't want to make-out with him because I'm afraid something will happen.

Am I really so transparent? Or does he just know me way too well?

Wrote a poem that sort of captures the absolutely toilet mood that I'm in. And here it goes...

hung out to dry

a whimper between the sheets of these summer months
a pale and billowing white
i am hung out to dry
like youth's laundry
i do not rememeber how to hate
weary, bleached bones and clothespins
i carve my cries into the silence
lawn mower spotted
my mother's flowers as still as china dolls
no breeze to clean the sweat from my brow
recognizing the footprints of June
i never hesitate to follow their lonely path
salt-strewn
i am half-grown
twisting on the line
phantoms of nine o'clock in the morning
we are forgotten
the sun eating into our once fresh faces
spinning and sickening
i pause only to listen
a whimper between the sheets of these summer months