July 31st.
I wonder sometimes if this is the summer I asked for. Two months of being sheltered from politics and pandemics and bitter misery
until the school semester begins and drives you farther and farther away from me as if to punish me for being so temporarily happy

July 30th
i'll miss you.
i will have pretty plans for you
for when you come back.
we will have to cram a whole month into ten days.
asdf

July 28th!
three months + one year = daniel and christine!
i think i need to start eating meat again because
the elastic band on my socks gave me a bruise

July 27th.
as we were standing in the mirror I began to blink. with my fingertip I wiped an eyelash out of my eye like a tear and put it on my fingertip.
"make a wish."
"but its your eyelash."
"i dont need any wishes."
he concentrates and blows and it floats away into the hall.
too tiny to follow,
like the intricate lines and paths that fate weaves.
i was walking past that little stream tonight,
the one on the way to the store, down the dirt road,
and i had five cents.
i looked at the water bubbling and placed the nickel on the nail of my thumb,
and leaning forward,
cast it into the water with the spring of my finger.
and i concentrated while it fell lightly to the water,
wishing only that your wish would come true

July 25th.
it was raining for days, so
i decided to be happy for you,
and the sun came out.
i hope you looked at the blue sky and knew
that i was okay.
my kitty is having dreams,
she sits on the floor and twitches,
and when I call to her, her ears dont even twitch.
i drag my hand lightly down the shades of fur on her back
and she meows silently.
i would love to be able to hold onto dreams that tightly.

July 24th.
hot water, cold water
bright sun, hands.
like flashes from a point and click camera,
eyes straining in the afternoon light.
we sit drinking tea and looking at the flyers
like a married couple at breakfast, I idly think,
swishing the warm liquid around in my porcelain mug.
puzzle pieces when we kiss through the screen door!

July 23rd.
if you were any sort of decent human being, you would just let me hate you, and leave me alone.
things dont always get better, not everybody gets a happy ending.
it was a mistake.
and this is the consequence

July 22nd.
shit bitch, we hit the 10000 hit mark.
i think that deserves a new lay out:
i have some ideas. just need to borrow a camera.

July 20th.
just this one day, and then I get two days off.
two well deserved days, may I tell you.
my supervisors are beginning to think that I am ill
but secretly, I am just exhausted by the atmosphere.
I am seventeen, I will work like a mule, but I will not
BE a mule.
not YOUR mule.
NOT your mule!
and I will take my two days off! damnit!
NO i will not take out my lipring!

July 19th.
so this is how it feels to deteriorate

i think you fell asleep and forgot about me again

July 17th.
(technically july 18th @ 2:52AM)
starting to get tired now, I think.
sad that my parents will be back tomorrow
and that in their absence, i had no party,
i did not drink, or smoke,
i did not have a single visitor.
sad also
that i miss them, and
am glad that they will return so
i can have someone to talk to again

July 16th.
(but technically july 17th at 3:09 am)
right now, I feel an awful lot like the characters in the Sims.
mostly in the way that after a while, you get bored of playing
because their lives get so mediocre,
constantly having them do the exact same things
every day,
just so their little arrow wont turn red and
little bubbles with flashing signs wont come up.
they stay content while I save and quit.
but mostly, I think
that swimming at 2:30 am is what makes me feel like the Sims.
i just cant wait to be as happy as

July 14th.
honestly, its like breaking an addiction.
overslept today, it took me forever to fall asleep.
back in high gear. doing okay.
call the reinforcements, soldier

July 13th.
being normal feels like shit.
just need to fix these aches and bruises and then
i will carry on.
tired of it, sick of it.
still 50 days. come on pony.
lets kick it in high gear

July 12th.
sigh.
the one good thing about being solitary is my remarkable capability to stick to plans.
you accuse me of being weak willed
(strike out)
but it is exactly the opposite i use demonstrated in
our awkward, less than cordial goodbyes

July 10th.
really struggling now. want to just go to sleep for the rest of the day.
wipe the slate clean, start over tomorrow.
secret bottles hidden behind the stuffed rabbit in my room.
need more;

July 9th.
On the radio today, a woman spoke of her travels in Canada about twelve years ago. She had been backpacking, and met many people from different countries, even here within her own. She spoke in particular of one Japanese girl that she had befriended. Nearing the end of her story, she said that she was glad she had not continued the journal, or kept one afterwards, as the words she had ambitiously written were dishonest now.
that is the exact sentiment I feel now, everytime I write in my books, every time I read something full of anger in my books. I don't feel that anger now, and those words are only capable of hurting someone who doesn't deserve it, so why must I keep it? why must I remain tied down to these things that I no longer feel, to this exaggerated evidence of things that were? instead of these beautiful expressions following the every flick of my pen to characterize the every graceful movement, scene or passion, it is as though I am forever chasing them, and being tied to them... jerked along and forced to follow.
awfully tired of following hackneyed expressions! must I continue?

July 7th.
"reinforcements!" cries the leader, true to form:
who does he think he is fooling with his authority?
when it gets bad, he always calls for back up. no responsibility
for the situation.
regardless, he is content to catch the cloud of dust
the new vehicles will raise as they fly to his rescue.
will you know my secret?
no... no,
i dont think so

July 6th.
deception! looking in the wrong column of values!
and in one ignorant action, once again, repeat:
i'll do better tomorrow

July 5th.
pushed... what?
keep waking up. keep waking up.
why is this so easy for you to manage?
scientifically, is it a question of blood pressure and body mass?
is it a question of chemical imbalances?
catipult. keep waking up.
car? driving? who is in the front?
drug run? finding owen?
keep waking up.
puking and pushing. try to act normal
talk louder so they dont think we hear them.
until I go home and continue to wake up,
physically,
all night

July 1st.
exhaustion, coupled with regret
over trivial things like numbers.
you are waiting for the moment for a monumental alteration,
i beg of you to acquiesce;
but i am not that monument