Oh, how happy I would be to share something mutual. Something that is a constant, and not a variable. And I could lean on that constant and place my fears in that constant and cry against that constant and not worry for one second that it would leave. Such a relationship would be all I seek from life.

It's been so long since I last cried, last felt that sour tingle in my nose. Doctors say tears are essential in relieving stress. Guess I'm not mentally very healthy.

But I want to cry. I want to wail my heart out in an outburst of utter sadness. And I wish you'd put your arms around me and comfort me. The child in me longs for such attention; this cement foundation I've built for myself itches with awkward discomfort.

Too much of the world is unstable. Too much of everything is undependable. If you could be reliable, as I vow I will be to you, then what could I possibly fear? What could we possibly fear? If we can hold each other's hands and not believe, but KNOW that we can lean against one another for all the eternity to come, we will be forever happy.

If only. . . you are a constant.

I miss your laugh. Is it because I'm not there to hear it, or is it because you don't laugh any more? Please smile and giggle and chuckle and laugh the special way you do. The special, magical way that tingles me all over.

I raised an eyebrow at his obvious intent to sit by her. My meager 17 years has equipped me with enough experience to understand his mind at that moment when he fidgeted around in the aisle, seemingly looking for a seat. I sneered at his poorly disguised intent to sit by her.

Then I shuffled into my own seat jealously, having watched him sit down by her.

Jealousy. . . such powerful emotion. It strips you of that usual confidence, and you stand nakedly vulnerable to the world. Then your skin grows paranoid; every pointed object you sense pierces you like knives, burying their pain deep within your spine.

Is there an antidote to this poison? I have yet to locate such powerful medicine. . . one that cures the mind and the soul in addition to the body.

The star twinkled at the rabbit when nobody was looking, and the rabbit smiled back. Yes, the rabbit will remember that one moment for the rest of eternity. Besides munching on carrots, this rabbit indulges in remembering sweet moments with the star. So when there's nothing to do, the rabbit could lie on a grassy field and stare up at the night sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the star while recalling those twinkles to himself one by one, caressing each warmly.

She smiles, and the world instantaneously blossoms with hope. The clouds of anxiety that pressed down on me vanish from the sky, placing into view the infinite azure blueness that expands beyond the horizon and into the universe. The change is so rapid that for a moment, I could only stare stunned at the color and life that suddenly immersed my surroundings.

And I couldn't help but smile back.

You could kill me and stop the beating of my heart, but nobody can take away the rhythm of my soul. Life's music plays on even when the body is silenced by death.

A girl flashed me when I was walking on the streets today. She brazenly lifted her skirts as I walked by and revealed to me her womanhood, barely clad in white underwear, and nearly blinded my virgin eyes. Somewhat flattering, now that I think about it. Of course, the fact that she was two years old detracts a bit from the pleasure and boost in self-esteem. *Evil grin*

Her dismayed parents tackled her to the ground and showered me with apologies. It was fun.

The optimistic comedian: If they don't laugh, at least they'll moan.

I think playing the clarinet is a romantic affair, while playing the piano is a primal battle for dominance and power. So you can fall in hopeless love with a clarinet and melt in her sincere, alluring tone, but have to bash your fists against the piano in a masculine and barbaric act of subjugation.

Both have their charms. I prefer Clare though. . .

Anger should be treated as a tool, not an emotion. Rationally display anger to express and convince: It can produce extremely efficient results if you use this tool wisely and rarely.

Don't choose to be angry because you feel that way. An angry mind is clouded, unappealing, and destructive.

Easy to say, eh? Slightly more difficult to put into practice. *Grin*

"May you live all the days of your life."

The concert is over, my peers have left, and I am alone on the unlighted stage, wondering if inhaling the stage air can ingrain deeper in my memory these high school years. Post-concert loneliness -- an annoyingly enhanced self-awareness where I can feel each pore of my body and each cell of my still-tingling finger tips, and I become an awkwardly augmented existence.

So this is what it feels like to be a senior. To bow off the stage of high school.

All it takes is one cochroach climbing up your pantleg during a bus ride to ruin every future bus ride. . . paranoia fills the entire vehicle with potential bugs lurking underneath every single seat cushion and inside every air conditioning vent. I hate cochroaches!

And spiders! They infest the roof of the basement parking lot. What if one falls on me one day? I'd panick, slap myself all over my head, and smear the spider in my hair. . . AHH!

Wash your hands after you go to the bathroom for other people's sake. Wash your hands before you go to the bathroom for your own sake.

I've come to believe that language is a compromise. Our ideas are compromised so they could be expressed by the language, then the other side converts the received string of words back into an idea in the head. Inefficient, inaccurate, hence misunderstandings. Unfortunately, I can see no real solutions to this problem.

We strive to arrive at the next plateau of excellence. Some manage to push forward, and others remain behind, either voluntarily giving up the promise of success or running dry of talent. We sympathize with the latter and sneer at the former. And, eventually, forget both.

Only those who push forward are remembered. We who are at this plateau can only look ahead and swallow nervously, then push and push until our marrows run dry or our will collapses.

Anything can be said through a smile, be it a vow of love, a sarcastic mocking, an expression of ecstasy, some mellow reminders to a friend, intense bitterness, frustration, angst, joy. . . anything can be said through a smile.

So smile and express. Laugh, cackle with joy. . . smile at each other, at the ones you love, the ones you don't love so much, the strangers, the dogs' wagging tail, the drifting clouds, the stars. Smile at the moon. And free your heart.

Glasses, warm clothing, t-shirts, wallet with ID and stuff, socks, toiletries, vitamins,

snacks, a sleeping bag, camera, computer, computer games, CDs, my favorite book, my compositions, music, a perpetual smile,

the moon,


Clare,



memories of you.

My checklist.

I'd rather starve than eat eggplant.


I'd rather eat nothing than eat eggplant.


I prefer eating nothing over eating eggplant.


To me, the value of nothing is higher than the value of eggplant.


Nothing > eggplant


Nothing is greater than eggplant. . . . . !!??!

I'm not homesick, I'm yousick.

"No no, Satan, you mistaken me. I'm not trading my soul for her love. I'm trading it for her happiness."

Then Lucifer stared at me incredulously, unsure of my true intentions. You see, an incarnation of evil and selfish desires cannot comprehend an action such as this, while to me, the soul is no more valuable than a piece of kleenex when weighed against her silver bell smile and laughter.