pardon, but you can't stumble down the cobblestone streets with that much brandy on your breath.

if you slice a potato thinly enough and place two slices over your eyes for five minutes it's supposed to help get rid of dark shadows. that and not staring at a computer screen until oh-dark-thirty am.

i don't see how they make crying look so beautiful on the silver screen. i never like to look in a mirror when i've cried.

i feel weak. i feel a little lost. i am angry at myself. i know i know i know that it is all up to me. i ask myself what i'm becoming and where i'm going and all i can answer is that i don't know. 

maybe i should stop telling so many people about my problems. most of you don't understand. most of you take your adolescence for granted. you think parents are easily manipulated, and my mother is no different. that this is not my fault at all. i should stop telling every single person what's going on in my life. i'm sorry, but it doesn't help.

i am uninspired. my writing reflects my thoughts and emotions, both scattered all over the place like what is left of any object dropped out of a fifth story window. my chorale concert is tomorrow night and i have Coro Di Schiavi Ebrei soaring and harmonizing in my mind's concert hall, and i am uninspired. ("traggi un suono di crudo lamento...") i have no idea what any of the words mean, but they are amazingly beautiful. verdi is a genius. i am unmoved.

this is all more than being punished for procrastinating on a scholarship. this is about me procrastinating. about me being unreliable, irresponsible, and apparently unsusceptible to real change. this is all of my flaws culminating--instead of living peacefully, one of them manifesting themselves to publicity at a time--everything rushing in on me at once. i had a dream i was drowning. no i didn't. i wish i had; this would've been easier to prepare for.

this is the mt. everest of my himalayas: cracks and crevasses, the air cold and biting, the thin atmosphere as the summit is approached. is this an epiphany? if so, how many times has this been realized, and how many times have i turned my back on it? can you call it an epiphany if you realize it but there's no lasting drastic change?

i was scrolling through all the photos i'd gathered since i first had this computer. i had acne all over my forehead and my hair was constantly in my face. i looked happier, and healthier. i had no shadows under my eyes.

in that brief emotional period one experiences after receiving some fairly bad news, i'd already concocted a plan for running away. i somehow ended up being able to get away, without a car and barely any money, and how i'd slowly empty my room of everything i needed and stashing it someplace safe before finally making a break for it. in the end the questions still hung like mobiles in the air, spinning with the air currents: where would i go? what would i do? how many bridges would i burn, and how many of those would i be able to repair? of course, i talked to a close relative on the phone and was reminded that it really wasn't the end of the world; there's no need for a post-armageddon plan.

the weird thing has been her behavior toward me the past couple of days: it was as normal as it was before. albeit more cordial, the tension is pulled so taut if you let it go, it would break a window if that's where it was aimed. 

i do love her, and this isn't that big of a deal. this is a good time for me to focus on pulling the pieces back together, in a massive reverse-explosion.

someone posted the question: "'what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?'" after a good assessment of life's current happenings, my answer is this: there is nothing in my life right now that i can fail at.

-d