Democritus sat amidst the ruins, pondering the futility of existence. in the future sarte exclaimed, “hell is other people.” in his no exit. somewhere, a stoic stirred in his grave. what will you do with this one life of apocalyptic splendour? what do you call a derrida christmas? why, absence of presents of course.

you. i barely know you, yet i am falling for you. if you wait, i will show you many beautiful things. i can pretend to do this in your name and it shall lift me up.

study lounge. 12:40 AM. last night at college. alone. online. never alone online. last night i watched apt pupil which involved josh from ghost world as a wannabe neo nazi, who stalks/befriends gandalf, the war criminal. david schwimmer + moustache makes a required appearance. add in a touch of homoerotic undertones, and voila, movie adaptation of stephen king novella perfection.

i just typed a novella, and boy are my arms tired? ow. death fags! permanent marker doesn’t wash off of biceps nearly as easily as arms or hands. hmmm. quite peculiar.

my feelings of summer are mixed. i can forsee many good things, but i cannot forsee me sitting in my room on computer for hours. that’s not something i’m comfortable doing. my room at home is no longer a place of comfort. i might try and live in the basement, but mommy might not go for it. i’ll be 19, so it’ll be less cliched. i do not want to be that, erm, shit, nevermind. life brings us interesting places, eh?

tonight i went to amazing grace for the last time, not alone like i expected, but with lunch mike. a strange turn, to say the least. i think i’m just paranoid, because i took his request of “wanna hang out?” as a euphemism. earlier he mentioned how everyone experiments with homosexuality. though, he also talked about his disapointment in not losing his virginity freshman year (i.e. no poontang. ha.). yeah. considering i interpret people smiling as a come on, i’m most likely crazy.

today i ate lunch and dinner with random people from bud’s floor. i decided they could all probably be in the closet. that’s highly unlikely and improbable. wishful thinking, to be sure. $100 spent on sweaters, a pretty face, an earring, a slap on the butt do not equate to homosexuality. however, i can forsee a few too many drinks and great regret over making out with a guy. haha. i like creating futures for strangers/people i don’t know well. these journals have far too many typos. i have been drinking root beer and eating doritos. i blame college and a deeper lack within myself.

the lack is all mental. i place holes in spots where they do not exist. something about fractions of a whole. i’m tired. there’s no reason to be awake, besides talking to a cool lj stalker who i probably just like because she reminds me of laura n. i do that. i search for people who fit along templates of former friends and acquaintances. bud is a neo jon. maria is a more detached maren, mixed in with all the greatness of steph. mike and rainer are like mitch and jeremy, but close and people i can love rather than admire. heather is reminiscent of tessa. lunch mike is proof that there are traits of luke w. that are redeemable. bridget is… me? this one girl in my photography class reminds me of emma. queermike isn’t really a variation on a new theme, but rather a new archetype of what it is to be homosexual. he, along with darren, show that even people who can appear to be stereotypes, have deep and complex personalities. These are real people who I care for greatly. Ginny, Taryn, and Greg are reminiscient of Maren and Alex J, but more indie, more what I think I connect to, I guess. I guess since they were all my original friends, I’ll forever compare people I meet against them. Soon I’ll be comparing people against the college group.
It’s probably not necessary for me to group people like this, but it’s what I do. Their expression and pose do not need to be exact, no, it is their manner and contours… that’s a bit of art history for ya. sheesh.

why do i switch between capitalization and lowercase? what a weirdo. i desire to be huddled into a pile of cuddling on a beach next to a fire. that was amazing and real, even though so much about it was a dream. the sparkling lights of duluth, the cool sand, the darkness, the lighthouse in the distance… how did i end up in that perfect place?

though, it must be noted, as not-emma said, the closeness might have hurt us. i guess it’s good my connections here are not firm and have been slow in building. meeting new people has been really great, because it allows me to adjust to more realistic expectations of people. because of bud, i will not be as crazy about jon, and so on. it’s kind of like the essences are being diluted into these new people… hell, my entire life could be a lie created in the seconds after i fell off my bike that fateful afternoon so long ago. who gets hit, knocked off a bike, and manages to stay underneath the tires completely unphased? i remember being carried back to my garage. if this were a movie, there’d be a cut to flashback and my body would be seen as mangled as a strange man holds my small form. my mom screams in the open garage as the scene cuts to this study lounge here as i begin to seizure and fade away.

my lies have become truth. freshman year i desired attention and claimed to have a brain tumor. i said i’d be dead by 18. that later changed to 19, confirmed by a magic 8 ball that also said i would not find love. i thought things changed that, but i’m not so sure. i have three weeks. i don’t want this to end, dream or not. are these flickers of what ifs? i don’t think i, as a dying seven year old, could create the elaborate mythologies of the past ten years.

it’d probably make a good book, though. sadly, i bet it’s been done. i always kind of felt that there was this world outside of me, like i was just sleeping under the veil of some other, greater reality. during an assembly in high school, i heard an aetheral alarm clock ring. i was tempted to jump from my seat–i saw myself flying over the students and awaking into the other reality. i missed my cue, or i stayed sane within the grips of the real reality that i am currently doubting because it’s 1:08am and i’m tired. i haven’t learned nearly enough philosophy to be typing this.

oh, for a winged old man with a scythe and a snake biting at his tail to take me away!

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