I am too broke for a rename token but I want to move journals- comment here to let me know you want to come with so I can add you.

I havent updated in months because I can't bring myself to really say too much recently. There's a lot of stuff going on in my life but none of it is positive and none of it's anything I really want documented on the internet. If we talk, you can ask about it but it's not something I'm out to divulge.

Summer came and summer went. The thing about living in the NYC area is that we get gorgeous weather for three months, then it turns to shit. I'm freezing. Wrapped up in soft blankets and turning on the space heater. I've always got cold hands and a cold nose, sort of like a puppy but not really.

I'm missing some friends and missing others less. Sometimes I wonder how much people I've associated myself with actually have in common with me. Sometimes I think a lot and then other times I realize that maybe the reason I'm so bored or disenchanted is simply because I'm in another place.


Yeah, it's up-side down. That's how I took it, I like it better that way.

( pictures that range from really really old to semi-recent )

I spent father's day in the back yard, drinking sangria and virgin pina coladas while running through the sprinkler. I laughed a lot and the water was cold but it felt nice. I feel hot. I'm not used to the sun. We don't get along.

Today I'm 21. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I'll let you know later.

If you ask her what her earliest memory is, she’ll tell you it was white. Cold white blinding snow in an abandoned parking lot near the old church in the middle of the city. Spinning around trying to catch some on her tongue, dizzy and laughing until she fell down and stood there very still. She never tells anyone she thinks it might not be real. The memory, that is. The church and the parking lot are still there but sometimes she thinks she imagined it, her mind playing tricks on her. If that’s not her first memory then what is? What happens to people who just don’t have one? They’re a little less real than the rest of the herd. A little less genuine and a little more dead than the rest of them.

So she keeps her fingers around makeshift memories that make her childhood appear happier than it was. That’s what’s beautiful about the mind. If you tell it enough lies, they become truths. They become the same in the darkness of your mind. So she remembers being loved and being told she was pretty. She imagines her father is a handsome man who has aged gracefully as opposed to the faceless monster in her dreams. The man who takes pieces of her until she’s left with nothing but an echo of his face. Eyes that belong to her and a nose she just can’t place. Demons so familiar she takes these things out on herself. Cold white blinding truth. This is the way she kisses ghosts when she thinks no one is paying attention to the ways that she haunts herself with things that will never change. Tortured ideas of how permanent this is.

You can’t change this, girl.
You’re unwanted.
He never wanted you.

You don’t exist.

The make-believe girl has three half-sisters and they all have names prettier than hers, even though she came first. Exotic names. Madison is the spoiled rude one. The one that knows she’s beautiful, the one that scoffs at compliments and doesn’t know the invisible one exists. She wouldn’t care, anyway but the girl without real memories sometimes wonders what it would be like to have a sister, like on those sitcoms where the daughters share rooms and talk about boys and do each others makeup. Those fantasies are as real as the man who left without her name. He’s turned into folklore. Someone made up, a monster to scare her away.

Away from what, she isn’t sure. Away from this. A way to get raw edges mended. Some wounds need to be cauterized in order to heal. Seared flesh feels like lies against her lips. Like the unspoken truth that everyone knows but no one says.

What else is there to do, then, but wish for snow?

maybe it's the new year or the fact that i haven't slept yet but:

everything people post online seems to be perpetually contrived.

nevermind. between you and me it totally is. nothing is genuine anymore and it seems like everyone is doing everything for attention now-a-days. i'm not really into that sort of thing. not really, though we all have our moments. i've got my own issues with dormant vanity but nothing seems genuine, and at the same time: the premise of a journal that other people can read is completely pretentious and self absorbed on some level. (to even think your day to day life is of interest to complete strangers does in fact require an ego, ableit a small one at the very least).

i am running on no sleep as usual and i don't have patience for it. pixels and adjectives don't make you worthwhile. writing meaningful nonesense in a live journal is not going to be your big break and jesus christ if i see another lj/myspace/etc that has "i'm sort of a big deal" bullshit anywhere on it (where is that even from anyway?) it will be far too soon. you're not a big deal. especially not because you say you are.

i love how i perch on top of my soapbox just in time for the new year. i hope yours was good- i'm still figuring out what to do with mine.