misha9999999

i havent quite found home yet either...
beginning to think it doesn't exist...
but there is room for hope...

WHAT are you talking about?!

i think you're wonderful.
i don't need you, certainly... i don't even want to think i need anything right now than what makes me happy because i've had far too little of that...
i'm tired of thinking i need people or that people need me for that matter

look at this. you're getting me all worked up.
dammit, misha... i'm just happy that someone sparks an anything in me anymore - i'm sick of apathy.

so thanks.
that's all.

this is a reason i don't have many friends... i have too much. i give too much. always the "bob" because i want people to feel what i feel and someone wants to take it like it means the world.
it doesn't mean SHIT... just a tiny piece of me.
it's up to me, tho... what i give away...
and some days - i just assume flush it all down the fucking toilet


you told me once i seemed like too much of a romantic or something
maybe that's it... i live in la la land far too much of the time.
but that's where i want to be, isn't it.
thank goodness this day's almost over. i want to get it over with.

and ya know, just as cue - i'll want it back tomorrow.


ah yeah - just to make a tiny bit of sense to this -
i'm tired of illusions, myself.
very very very spent on them

all one cent of me.


and what's MORE is that the key on one side and the cage on the other must mean that a person would bend you in half to open you up...
what about folding out?

::::
oh yeah
also walking contradiction
(let me just leave you a little diary , here)
i don't think people take it as enough
but we all have our own neuroses (whatever that plural is) so it doesn't really make a shit of difference.

i could give my entire life away
peel my skin off, take the brain out of my head, the heart out of my chest, the shoes off my feet with the miles they've walked and it wouldn't mean much shit to anyone.
so it really doesn't matter.
you take what you will - for what it's worth.

i don't want to hurt or hate or whatever.

it's okay.
just say what you mean... not like i think THAT's even possible.

i guess just try...
and someone will love you for it.
:::


stiiiiiill wonderful.


[Edited on Jun 23, 2003]


and ya wanna know what else, mister misha?
i don't really have all that much...
it just means more to me.

call me insensitive. or overly dramatic.

what the fuck ever.

[Edited on Jun 23, 2003]

wow... a dickhead...

would that not make you cross eyed?

*should stop trying to be funny*

i think i might find it hard to spit OVER my left shoulder, but i've practiced spitting - from the car especially - so maybe i could manage. but i don't consider myself particularly superstitious, so *shrug*
the walk sounds gorgeous. i had wine with friends last night as well, but ended up in a sex shop instead of roaming around plucking fruit and dreaming of prostitution. ...hrm...
i love food, too. i'm looking to expand on that - um... but not expand. gee whiz that could come out all wrong.
i don't remember my dreams most of the time. i remember i had dreams, just not the dreams. and not even that sometimes. i think it would be really interesting. maybe i should document them. i can't ever write fast enough.
for sixteen dollars, i think all of that is worth it.
i really like the shirts of wife-beater variety. i swim in them, actually. funny that i was sharing the very story with a coworker this morning - about how odd that i tie one up and wear another one over top. comfy. much more so than whatever they make swim suits of.
i don't have white shoes.
the opera story is endearing. i think dad singing is a good memory. i haven't seen many but appreciate them, as well.
influence - i don't think we can escape it ever.

i was thinking about that squish thing, but when you said dirty i thought "you can citruself down right here" ...
your idea is better.
i doubt i smell like oranges, but could arrange as much. vanilla pear is mostly my thing, but sometimes citrus in a general scent, and then sometimes earthy amberish. i dunno - i sit in my smell, so how can i tell?

this is a long little note, eh?

*<

[Edited on Jun 19, 2003]

just cunts, wine, and miller for me.

in regards to your comment:
your favorite work of art?
and also - i want to know! do not refrain! share the dirty words! (please?)
i like it when you tell me about your days, ya know? wine sounds divine.

i like smilies sometimes

yummy stuffed peppers...
incense, tea, studio, (buy some of those curly mosquito repellent burning things), why don't i have your cell in my cell?, i still want to too, i would like to have french fashion magazines - must hunt them down or start to regular 'zine shops.
dress up would be fun. but i'm not good doll material - dolls are mostly flawless, smooth smooth skin, no scars... besides, who wants to be burried under a bed. (is this not consolation for me who would almost wish to be a dolling)

i bet you are a sweetie, from time to time.

: also : your ''s are ?'s... ???
: also : why wow? are you trying to make me hot?

grease is the word.

[Edited on Jun 17, 2003]

i call my friends sweetie and doll and baby and such. its just a term of endearment becuz i care for my friends. and i cant be your doll. girly clothes dont fit me well.

sometimes we should just walk away...

*hugs* i would refrain from going. it would only make things worse.

youre in love?

thats what love does...

i've been avoiding friends, too.

the inadvertent sort.

i do this all the time

it always hurts me. i wonder if it hurts them. i can't stand that i can't be as present as i ought to, as a friend.

is it that i can't? or that i don't want to?

i always believed that we will make time for whatever we truly find important. this, i think, is what worries me: that when i fail to make time for those i "care" for, that i don't really "care" as i want to believe i do



p.s.
i will journal at your behest, later this week. be on the lookout!

soon.

beautiful..
vivid...
telling..
-D

ditto.

my mind if tired but my body is restless...
it makes for a disturbing combination...

brave man.

i'm jealous.

the boy i'm crushing was there. i would have cried too.

funny. when i was in lax, people kept trying to talk to me, mostly old men, and i kept trying to avoid them. what is it about someone with their nose to a book that makes them look like theyd stop what they're doing to talk to you?

i'd take those over men with thick accents....

my bad for pressing the backspace.
dupe

eloquence forsaken,
it seems i've stumbled over myself.

[Edited on Jun 06, 2003]

i'm visiting new york soon, too.

cleveland, ny... i swear, you'd think i was stalking you.