(no subject)

there are things that strip me down, down to bone, down to something sweeter. and i wish i had words to explain it, but i can't or i won't. and it's odd, because normally i only divide my life between completely secret and postable here, and while this borders on completely secret, i desperately want to write about it. and i think i've been losing the trick of writing for myself, and instead combining the tactics of writing less of the disjointed, angry, selfpitying abstract writing that i used to keep as private posts, and filtering less of what i post here.

and though, for a variety of different reasons, i don't get to use words like forever, his hand on my hair still feels like a promise. even if i'm too crazy, too scared to figure out exactly what's wrong with him, because i can't see what's wrong with me, his moods rise up to me and i feel different and i can't pinpoint it until i realize it's not mine.

and this new year began kissing him, in that wonderful/horrible way that couples have where the rest of the world stops existing, and what i acknowledge is bounded by the face inbetween my hands, and the hands on my hips. strangely enough, History had wandered off in one direction and Motion in another, but i ended up pecking a handful of people on the lips/cheek.

i'm growing more comfortable being sketchy, though i hope it doesn't actually come off that way. i just enjoy being openly appreciative of other people's attractiveness, and i like bragging about my sex life.

sad that i didn't get invited to come along for the wandering the next morning, but i've always known that i have to stay in history's sight to be remembered for these sort of things.

finished fudoki, halfway through midnight in the Garden of good and evil, (i read, curled up against light while he played Eternal Darkness for hours yesterday) and i'm supposed to go back to my parents today, but it's snowing and apparently now i'm actively afraid of snow.

(no subject)

there are things that strip me down, down to bone, down to something sweeter. and i wish i had words to explain it, but i can't or i won't. and it's odd, because normally i only divide my life between completely secret and postable here, and while this borders on completely secret, i desperately want to write about it. and i think i've been losing the trick of writing for myself, and instead combining the tactics of writing less of the disjointed, angry, selfpitying abstract writing that i used to keep as private posts, and filtering less of what i post here.

and though, for a variety of different reasons, i don't get to use words like forever, his hand on my hair still feels like a promise. even if i'm too crazy, too scared to figure out exactly what's wrong with him, because i can't see what's wrong with me, his moods rise up to me and i feel different and i can't pinpoint it until i realize it's not mine.

and this new year began kissing him, in that wonderful/horrible way that couples have where the rest of the world stops existing, and what i acknowledge is bounded by the face inbetween my hands, and the hands on my hips. strangely enough, History had wandered off in one direction and Motion in another, but i ended up pecking a handful of people on the lips/cheek.

i'm growing more comfortable being sketchy, though i hope it doesn't actually come off that way. i just enjoy being openly appreciative of other people's attractiveness, and i like bragging about my sex life.

sad that i didn't get invited to come along for the wandering the next morning, but i've always known that i have to stay in history's sight to be remembered for these sort of things.

finished fudoki, halfway through midnight in the Garden of good and evil, (i read, curled up against light while he played Eternal Darkness for hours yesterday) and i'm supposed to go back to my parents today, but it's snowing and apparently now i'm actively afraid of snow.