Come Hither.

Just like the ocean needs the waves.



Disrupted were my sleep, but the dreams, they come in sequels, encores even. Strangely so, just recently, my lungs are always inflated with the onrush of scenery — traffic, trees, pavements, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy."

Even happiness is radiated in my every step, each accompanied with a little awkward skip. Often, having caught my reflection in the sidewalk mirrors, I realized I scare myself silly, sometimes.

Aw shit, is that really me in the mirror? What a fug.


I'm not good with words, nor am I fluent in speaking emotions. And I am conscious of the lack in my vocabulary. But I take people very seriously. In fact, people are all I take seriously. Therefore, I have nothing but sympathy for how people behave, and nothing but laughter to console them with.


Then again, the obligated instincts to put others' feelings before mine; I may be oversensitive, and yes, no matter the intensity or weight of the words shot at me, I cringe, so it apparently does reflect, quite the obvious, on my facial expression. And then you try to retract your words, but the damage is done. Tell me you're sorry, I'll forgive you, no doubt. Ask if I'm okay, I'll tell you I am, when I'm not. Fake a smile? Yes, can do. What about laughter? Definitely.

I don't call this two-faced. I call this ignorance, for the benefit of others. Ignorance is always bliss.

So don't ask me what I want to eat - What happens if what I do want to eat, is not up to your liking? Awkward.
Don't ask me where I want to go - I'll go wherever you go. I will.
Don't give me a penny for my thoughts - I don't control my mind; my heart does. Sometimes, the heart don't say the right things, at the right time, in the right tone. Hence, I rather not.
Don't tell me you like me, worse still, that you love me - I may not react correctly, and it will show. But please don't blame me, because I may actually like you, but we all fear the awkward silence that follows a probable answer. What happens if you don't mean it? And what happens then if you do? They say looks are deceiving. I say, feelings are the ones.


You can hurt me, but I, I'm in no position to do that to you, to anyone. Call me a coward, but I have no heart nor intention(s) to. This ain't no fronting. I hide my emotions so well sometimes I forgot how to react in situations. Otherwise, my emotions, they come out wrong.


Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling.

I'd like to have at my disposal, complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions, like say, "The happiness that attends disaster." Or, "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy." I'd like to show how "intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by failing restaurants" as well as for "the excitement of getting a room with a minibar." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now, I need them more than ever.

Maybe so, that's why I rarely confide in those who are better than me, for fear of sounding naive, doltish, possibly even short-sighted.





Alright, have to go get ready to meet the Trannies for dinner. I was just about getting comfortable in my chair though. When the time of the month comes, it just makes you feel sludgy, and you rather go out in a push-cart. Then again, who the fuck is going to push me, huh? Bloody retard.

Sigh, wandering about town like I've never wanted out, and this is just about as social as I get now.



Neurotic, anyone?

Fine, I promise to take pictures, but promise is never a guarantee, no?



Twenty-five and eleventeen.