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took a subway with my roommate to times square tonight. there, somewhere near 45th we found the venue her friend (glen) was playing at. a little hole in the wall that smells like all those venues smell - like old cigarettes, sweat, and mildew. it's completly out of place in the upper side of manhatten really. her (glen's) band played and it was great. there was mad good energy. i was kind of drunk. the feeling from the lines i did in more dorm room was pretty much gone. but i danced around until a thin layer of sweat was on my skin and my hair was moist near the forehead. outside the cold air was so refreshing as it dried my sweat. i felt alive again.


now it's three in the morning and i can't sleep. my nervous system is too stimulated. i feel slightly agitated but at least i finished my gender and communications midterm. let's not talk about schoolwork though. that's just bound to be depressing.

false sense of comfort

i am already restlessssssss. i am already tired of everyone. i have already lost all motivation when it comes to school.


the only times i actually feel guilty is when i do something by accident. or i do something and undesired results ensue. i don't feel guilty often. but when i do it's torture. i try to talk myself out of it by thinking, "it was an accident. you didn't mean it." once it's there looming over me though it's hard to shake. everything takes on an ominous feel and i just want to go home and sit in front of the t.v. for hours.


there will be some moments that are forever branded in my mind, whether i like it or not.

happy halloween (or why i can't go home anymore)

you wake up too early. there's still that metallic like taste in your mouth, or maybe just the memory. hungry but food just doesn't taste the same. jaw clenched.


so far from home. so far from anything stable. life has taken on a new kind of temporal feeling. (but wasn't it always this way? nothing ever stays the same).


masks and masks and masks and we're all always wearing masks. everyone on the street is wearing costumes and it's just a very different crowd than the usual upper class families of the village. it's almost more real, more authentic. i jump in stranger's pictures. a woman tells us, "be safe."


next morning and i feel like a deflated balloon. everyone back home is so proud. but i am failing. and no one here cares.


on mischief night we go to brooklyn only to find the party is twenty one and over only and so we go back and as the subway is going over the bridge and manhatten is in sight (it's all lights and tall buildings and mechanized beauty) i breathe a sigh of relief. even if i hate it here, i could never leave.