it's summer, it is.
2001-04-10 - 9:15 p.m. Woosh! Prinz Andre is at it again, making my evening fun and fraught with his phenomenal Closet-boy Angst. Or maybe Peeking-Out-Of-The-Closet boy Angst. Oy gevalt. My mom keeps trying to call me, and i'm always right in the middle of something. Ow. She's supposed to come round tomorrow night. God, it's 78 degrees outside and smelling of summer. Really. I'm sitting here in my room with the blinds closed and i can feel it. It's trying to make me cry. It is making my cat cry, as she screams and screams to be let out into it, this warm, welcoming night. I can't blame her, but my neighbors do. I can't blame her because I want to go too. It smells so good out there. What was it -- Balmy summer nights when the fancy strikes you a thrilling blow? Yeah, except that it's spring. Something is trying to eat my head alive. With sauce, bread, and a very nice little white wine. But the forks and the knives and the constant feeling of being bitten off in hunks... it's getting to me. just a little. Gods, if only i could push off really and go fly. Maybe that's why i stay so thin, in the hopes that one day i'll be light enough to lift off. but it's not weight... you leave that behind with the ground no matter what you're shaped like. It's a strength thing. I guess I'm not quite enough, though sometimes it almost feels... I want to run. The next closest thing to what I really want. Ah well.
0 comments.notation.profile.DW.Quois.Lochinvar.smut.Tambourin.DiaryLand.DeadNazi
