alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay
pollytrance

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Try To Wash Your Trace Off My Skin

It feels so weird to walk away and still have someone on your lips.

I'm having the greatest morning of my life, it feels like anyway. But no one cares about that, because the only thing people care about reading about anymore is misery, tragedy or drama, because it's interesting.

Occasionally, they will read the funny stories too.

I just realised that I have nicknames for everyone. Some more clever than others.

It amazes me that the letter 'q' is so near the end of the alphabet. Lately, I've been eating bones. Well, maybe they're not really bones, but it felt like I was eating bones. They looked like bones. I'll never tell what they really were.

I know what my patterns are, good and bad, and yet I always find myself falling back into them, the way Alicia Silverstone fell from that bridge in the Aerosmith video. There's a strange distant smile on my face but no bungee cord.

Self-discovery.

I think I am dehydrated, so I am going to try and drink more water.

I find Mya so beautiful. I was watching the New Years' 2001 video last night. Even though Travis fucked up that night for me, I look back upon it fondly because Mike and Mya were there. Funny how Mike and I don't even breathe a word to each other anymore.

Right after I posted about how Stefan and I were broken up, I drove over to his house. He looked at me weird and kept moving in slow motion.

"What are you doing to me?" He asked. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."

He said he had a hard time believing I was there because he didn't expect me to show up there. He said the past three days have been like one long haze because he hasn't been eating or sleeping well. Then he raced me home last night even though it was obvious that my automatic Hyundai was no match for his stick-shift Acura. He said he felt a lot better and I hope he found sleep last night, at least.

He was glowing when I left. I guess we're friends.

I am adrift. That's the best word for it. Touching my temples, like me and Jessica doing the Macarena so long ago.

I need to renew my account. I want to be paid again. For some reason it makes me happy to be that way, even though I don't really do anything with it, like make my journal look cool. I bet you I would if I knew how. But I don't. There is an eighteenth birthday looming close. She knows who she is. Do you want to do anything special that day?

I need to find twenty dollars very quickly here so I can pay off that motherfucking parking ticket that I didn't deserve. That will teach a miscreant like me never to do anything the easy way again. Sure, favour the grandma cars and the fetal alcohol Saturns, but not the Hyundai with the neon writing all over it, no. It must belong to someone who is promiscuous and does drugs. Some kid who deserves a parking ticket.

You need a daddy to be that kind of whore.

Bitter.

Four doesn't look like very much in simple terms.

I speak nonsense and mysteries, I suppose. But maybe it's all nonsense and the stuff being taken literally seems mysterious. Thanks to whoever, man. I'm glad I could be your enigma. You know who you are, too.

When I don't want to see something, I like to cross my eyes to blur the image. Then I get myself away from it, and it seems to have disappeared. Genius, I tell you.

I have to get up in an hour. Boy does that sound odd. I hadn't even been in my car all weekend.

Too bad they pushed it back so far. None for me, I suppose.

Always looking down upon yourself
(Like air)
You live two feet above yourself
(Somewhere)
We will always be in parallel
(Out there)
It's a place without a hope in hell
(Like air)

Try to wash your trace off my skin. -- The Great Natalie.

He even recognises her name. Do I make you feel famous?

These are the most delicious tears I've ever known.

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