It's just like licking icing off of a serrated knife.

nov. 15:
"that satan is a real troublemaker..."

nov. 16:
i tumbled back to my place beneath the floorboards.

nov. 12:
"on my planet, we call it bonding."

nov 6:
you open your mouth, and everything is recitation.

nov. 5:
though he sat amongst us, i knew i'd seen the last of him days ago.

skipping days because my memory doesn't exist.

oct. 30:
missing my cowboy boots was difficult, doubled over puking.

oct. 31:
fog filled the garage and the flashing lights transformed my friends into creatures i no longer recognized.

nov. 1:
the ceiling continued to moved, and the snake crawled over my arms.

nov. 2:
heartbeats travelled through the pillows.

oct. 25:
we were cavemen at the creation of fire and this was fucking ecstasy.

oct. 26:
i'm so in love.

oct. 23:
when she turned, looked at me and smiled, i knew she wasn't you.

oct. 24:
"... and it builds until it's too intense to take."

oct. 21:
eyes shut tight, i pretended like nothing beyond the covers existed.

oct. 22:
you're nothing new.

oct. 18:
in giggling sobriety, i found beauty, love and hope in between the couch cushions.

oct. 19:
"how can you take three shots of whiskey like that, but not take a little horror flick?"

oct. 20:
she cried and there was nothing i could do.

oct. 17:
in the disappointment and relief of everything being both the same and totally different, i watched the tv and the mirror for people that i used to know.

oct 16:
never forget how nice movement is.

oct. 13:
i slept till i couldn't stand not moving; then i got fucked up.

oct. 14:
"it's going to be hilarious, in six months," he said, and i hoped he was right.

oct. 15:
"your sleeping is getting out of hand."

mostly, i refuse to feel inferior - mostly.

oct. 11:
i sprawled on my mattress, and thought about empty space.

for all the days i can remember:

oct. 6:
apparently, robots think i'm spam; somehow, i don't feel surprised, just unoriginal.

oct. 7:
sometimes, i cannot open my mouth to speak, even when i want to.

oct. 8:
the salt dragged the pepper behind it, the two of them tied together by something neither of them could bear.

oct. 9:
cuddlepuddling, she said, "i feel infinite," and we were.

oct. 10:
i thought i'd never see you smile like that again, and then it was in the pictures.

sentences for previous days:

oct. 3:
i pretended like i heard everything he said; i just nodded and stared past him while the universe tried to fold in on itself.

oct. 4:
we ran across bloor without a care for the cars coming our way - all hundreds of us.

oct 5:
sketching, i stumbled home the morning after, when the world was a brighter blue and bathed in yellow.

Curled up on the couch between Will and Rob, I felt like a very confused egg.