golden hair, like its filled with sunshine and all things beautiful and lovely. but he was not a lovely person, just corrupt: an atheist in a sea of religious freaks. he found refuge in the music, the hard music that could rip your soul apart and leave you breathless. the ramones were his favorite--- sha la la la sha la la la la. he wore his yellow hair long so he could run his fingers through it and feel its softness. his hair was the only thing he ever liked about himself. which is sad, because i had always thought he was genuine and wonderful and full of beautiful curiosity that to this day still affects me through and through: within my whole insides and to my core.

We speak
skin to skin,
in a tongue that only we know.

No mind can understand
except ours
mine and yours
me and you.

We are our own separate species
unique to us:
a variance of intellect
a vast sea of differences

And we are the fish
swimming swimming
side by side.

If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seems
Absorbing everything
The spectrum's a to z

You are the Jordan Catalano to my Angela Chase.

ideas and thoughts

• nostalgia
• black and white close portrait of girl's face, hair twisted up, face painted graffiti, sunlight back light
• brick sculpture w/ graffiti and "The world is what we make it."
  

If I am thinking of you are you thinking of me?

I have figured it out.

I did not change... I didn't. But I am no longer depressed. My bad days are gone. I have not had one of my bad days in ages. Dare I say it, but... I AM HAPPY. I fixed it myself. I am strong.

and every autumn singes

And it is fall again. Fall, fall, fall with it's candy-colored leaves that cover the ground in piles that crunch beneath our feet. It is a pleasant sound, and it fits with the chill that sweeps across our bodies, so specific to autumn that it cannot really be explained with words or gestures or anything else. But maybe with the act of putting on a sweater and your favorite corduroy pants. And getting out your winter clothes, just in case, just in case. The days get shorter and the breeze gets colder and the nights get longer and we all get a little bit restless. Autumn is falling in love and falling in lust. It is new beginnings and change. It is wanting to be different and new for no reason or every reason there ever was. It is missing past loves and old friends. It is aching for an excuse to break routine and fall into adventure and spontaneity. It is desperately needing to hold his hand and feel his cheek against your cheek and his lips against your lips with everything you have inside of you. It is your favorite song playing on the radio when you start the car and your mother reminding you to wear a coat when you go outside.

I am a Nevadan now. Only a Californian once a month during my visits to my father's. His beach side abode with wood floors and high ceilings and comfy chairs on a deck with an ocean view. I like sitting next to him in the early morning, when the fog is still lifting, slowly slowly, sipping coffee with milk and sugar in big big mugs, so hot you can see the steam swirling up and out. But these are the only times I wish to be in California. The desert is my home now. Dry heat that seeps into your skin. Sunlight that is always golden. Rain that is always warm. It is my home.

I want to feel the way you made me feel again. Kissing slowly and passionately in each others arms as Geggy Tah played in your room, so loud and deafening. Our conversations that were deep and meaningful and actually about something, anything. How we could lay side by side for hours and never even say a word. I want it back.

There is a boy. A new boy. He is tall and blonde and beautiful and smart and shy and quiet and enjoys good music and has a velvet voice and lovely eyes. He finds his way into my dreams more often than not and I have a feeling something shall come out of this. Sometimes you just know, and I just know. I know, I know, I know.

I am not who I used to be. And I have finally figured out that this is a good, good thing.

"Life is not bliss, life it just this... it is living."

When you looked at me from across the room, I knew. I knew it right then just like I know it now. Your smile reached my eyes, and only mine. It was for me and somehow I knew, I just knew. Your blonde hair fell into your face, like golden silk, and it stretched across your eyes that lit up with recognition as my own smile returned yours. It was like magic. Just one moment that changed both of our lives. A simple exchange of smiles that meant more than our words could explain. And as we walked side by side out of the cramped classroom, our arms and hands brushing and tingling with that unexplainable electricity, your deep and husky voice whispered into my ear. Singing the most beautiful song I have ever heard, for the lone reason it was coming from your lips.

"I have to admit it's getting better, getting better."

"Since you've been mine."

I feel like I have lost something important. Something that I need. I have not written a word of anything besides fluff bullshit since May. I am uninspired and dry and lacking any drop of creativity. I want it back. I don't even know where it went. And I miss writing here. I miss it. I want to get it back... and I will. I will.