eighty-eight

i wanted to go for a walk tonight
see the stars,
feel the cool mountain breezes
think, to myself
because i'm tired of being in this place
that i love
that i don't know
i wanted to know it

so i packed my bag
with some water and journal
set out into the night air
hands in pockets and humming
satisfied, finally

and then
the road curved
the trees hung over, deeply, darkly
no streetlights and all was heavy blackness
and i stopped
and i turned around
i'm adventurous, but not stupid

and it made me so fucking mad
that i have to be afraid to be alone at night
that i can't explore this place without the fear
that some fucking sick person will
do things that are terrible
and i could ignore it
but i can't, because it's not a silly fear
it's so real, it's so fucking real
and as i walked back to my room
i thought about this goddamned party i'll go to instead
i thought about what i'll wear
and i wanted to cry
because i've been shoved in again
this box that is femininity
in all of my painted face burned hair glory
and i put myself here
i dig my own grave
but you do too
you do too, you fucker

she looked beautiful today
because she looked like everyone else, finally

eighty-seven

funny how years repeat themselves
but are so different, so different
see, this place was my life, last fall
it was the same dorm, the same people,
the same classes, the same teachers,
the same feelings
and so i keep remembering
all these flashes of me
this day, 365 days ago
and i'm happy to say that
things are different now
even in all of this sameness

a night like this
when friends were out
and no one was around
i would be sad, maybe crying
thinking of home and wishing for someone
journaling furiously
documenting every pained sentiment
of how my life had become suddenly
so uncomfortable

and tonight
i watch the night fall
light some incense
think about nothing
and i'm happy
happy?
happy.

eighty-six

it's starting to feel like home again
this place that i know so well
it's all the little things
it's not even the mountains
(they push me out in breathtaking moments)
but it's the streets, the cars, the buildings
the conversations and projects
and all of it that makes me feel like
i'm needed here,
i'm necessary
and if i had not walked these hills
they would be less because of it

eighty-five

i'm so scared
to write anything
that someone might see
because it's all so close to home
(get it?)

I'M HERE
and somehow
it's not what i thought it would be
in places as these
i never think i need adjustment time
but it seems like i need something
why does it feel like i need something new?
this is all new
but so much of the same
maybe you were right
i did idealize it
and how can a place stay perfect
once you're in it?

i just want my roomie to get here
and for classes to start
and to feel normal

oh, boone
you've stayed yourself
and i have changed, again

eighty-four

here it is:
the last entry of the summer

i started this thing
with nothing but a few words
that wouldn't fit into construction
i tried so hard then,
digging deep for perfection
all adjectives and little substance

and things have changed
oh, so many things have changed

but it's over now
everything i never thought could happen
suddenly
closes
it's like a tv shutting off
for a second there's that box of blue
and then fading
snap
black

tomorrow i walk (drive) away
from atlanta for the last time
and i start the life that will take me to my own places
and i hope so much it's what i've wanted
and i can't think of if it's not
there's so much ahead of me this year
everything i've remembered i'll have to let go of
because life has to move forward
always forward
always forward

i'm holding the remote
but the battery's missing
the whole summer, i kept pressing
search
skip scene
but the movie slowed

tonight i'm pressing
pause
stop
rewind
and the movie has finally started moving
and all of my relationships are flying past
subtitles of goodbyes
the music is distorted
the voices sound funny
because everything is so wrong
because i don't belong anywhere anymore
and life is still going

eighty-three

you
make
me
sick

it's pretty sad when
i've been away for so long
and everything surrounding you
has become the ideal
and yet
you still disgust me

get over yourself.
no, really.
spraypainting hummers?
and not understanding
when everyone else thinks
you're fucking insane?
and maybe you are

i didn't mind you so much
when you were just there
painting sometimes
trying to sound profound
but this is worse than a bad joke
don't you see it?
you're a joke, you're a joke

you would probably talk about
loving everything
or criticizing your whole generation for being typical
and buying into corporate media trends
and then go play beer pong
(i mean, they're all pretty much the same, right?)
because you're only extreme when it works for your image
you only care about africa because you get to say you went there
you only make fun of bush because he's an easy target
and you think destroying private property will unite us all

i'm not asking you to sit back, fall in, shutup
but there are things that make sense
and then there's you
oh god, i want to hit you in the face
watch you fall in the dirt
and give you a mirror so you see
how foolish you are