A Collection of Spectacles


i take it back.

i’m happy. i am.

because someone cares about me.

(like a record on loop spinning constantly end.less. revolutions)

and that’s always nice to have.

i miss him when we are apart and when together i dread the point at which he will leave and i will miss him


(i have to learn. to stop looking for more than what is given because what i have is beautiful enough)

i lived alone so i took him home,

he doesn’t love me but,

he keeps me company,

everything’s alright.”

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sometimes i’m not sure that i’ve made the right choices. i’m just. afraid that i’m trying . striving too hard to be recognized for having a certain status in this absurd  teenage  social order. that i’m trying so hard to amount to something in front of people that i’m sacrificing my own feelings. burying them to the point that i’m starting to think that wanting more is selfish.

“what more could you ask for?”

“everything. i want it all.”

and. in the midst of it all. i just want to be found admirably attractive.

i’m trying to change this chapter that i’m writing for this book that i’m writing with claire. i think it’s decent so far. i’m my own worst critic.

i always have this urge to throw myself at people. to make them want me so that i can have the option of denying them. in some self absorbed sadistic way i enjoy having that type of power. but then i realize it’s not in my nature. to deny people. so i try to accept everyone even when it’s not right for me to do so.

 and, underlying is the notion that, if i make everyone happy, my covertly devious mannerisms will just disappear.

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Hello. I never speak in specifics. 

I’m all too comfortable residing in the comfort of vagueness. It doesn’t just come out when I write. It has permeated my speech, started in one area and spread throughout.


and then i realize that i can’t finish the sentence because it would mean that i’m weak and that there are things that i don’t like about myself.

i tried when my dad and i were sitting in a room together and he looked at me and asked me .

oh yes. backtrack. i started crying because i don’t like when he rants about everything that’s bad in the house in country in the world because i feel like i’m suffocating since there’s nothing i can do about it. i said that i just wanted to get out of the house because everything here makes me upset. i told him that he seems unstable because he dwells on the bad in his situation and takes it to heart. i said i don’t know about you but when i’ve been wronged it’s just better for me to let it go.

he said well when have you been wronged in your life?

i couldn’t say a specific so he said that i had to live like him to understand. i hate when he assumes that i don’t know anything about anything. i really wanted to say remember the time i was brought downstairs and got in trouble and it was late you told me not to do one more thing that caused you stress because you had so much to deal with. you always tell me that you have a lot to deal with but so do i. it’s not enough.

I’m trying to be a better person.


Anyway, i was thinking the other day and tallying in my mind the number of sexually offbeat thoughts. i can’t even write them though i want to.

1, 2, 3…4. hahaha.

everything’s actually pretty okay.

i kinda miss someone a lot and that’s odd for me to say.

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it’s weird how.

i’m content now.

because of this.

i might be gone for a while.

(when i think about it, i realize how odd it is that i can’t write well when i’m not angry or frustrated or upset or confused)


i enjoy the taste of happiness a lot more.

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i wrote a haiku a few nights ago (it’s five-seven-five, right?)

looks for paper.

lying beside you
your skin supurb in it’s splen
did benevolence

and thought it was good. then i realized how badly i cheated to make it work.


 then i thought about how

my legs are becoming all bruised and such from shows but i don’t mind

and i realized how butch i can be at times because it’s the only way i know how to interact with guys since it reminds me of staying in new york and playing cards and having fun and being five years old again with big glasses and books.

                           i realized how much i miss that.


      a series of random events.

                 on the phone i was told that i was loved. i think i said it back.

          i mounted someone and said i would give them a massage.

                    i cried in a dimly lit room because i couldn’t seperate my physical feelings from my emotions. they were entanged and represented by two colored strands of yarn. i cried and wet them and the yarn became liquid and ran off the side of the table.




it was not awkward for once.

for some reason, that’s all my mind can gather about the day.

i wonder how i come off to other people, how other people perceive me. i think everyone thinks about that though.

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i’m awfully content with life right now

(it’s all quite beautiful from here)

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i’ve felt well enough lately to make another list. it’s kinda sorta working already. it always works when i need it.

[clear your mind


focus on what you want

because you attract what you focus on]

and for once, i feel very content with the fact that i know exactly what i want in life. i want to make the best of it all.

i found this amazing (hilarious) song that i would’ve shared with you if…

well, you know.


*it’s still all in the back of my mind. just that the thoughts are dimming more and more each day.

i wonder if that’s what you wanted, to fade into the nothingness of my most trivial recollections.

this summer has been one of discovery. i’ve discovered who i am

              [an ever changing being]

  and have learned to accept it.

                        [who will continue to adapt and grow]

                most importantly, i have learned not to fight it.

    [the “me” you see today might not be the same one seen a week from now]


maybe one day we can meet up again, as children, when things are much more simple and pick flowers beneath the golden orb the Earth calls “sun.”

                                                              i’d most certainly hope so.

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i can’t sleep a whole night through anymore.

i have headaches but no pills.

i might have to move up the road.

i told my mother, “if i stay, i’m unhappy. if i go, i’m unhappy. i’ll never win.”

this is the most heartfelt thing i think i’ve ever said to her.

she said nothing. for a long time. and then said, “eat up.”

jokingly. she always jokes now.

but this is not that easy. i hate how she states things like oh it’s a bad situation already. almost like saying it sucks now get over it.

and my dad says, “i would never do it because of how it would affect you but i could see myself taking my own life. just to end this constant pain.”

all the while she thinks we’re joking. she thinks she can laugh at shit.

i hate this. i want to be on my own so i’ll know my downfalls will be my own doing.

 i was going to put up art reproductions on the (now blank) wall in my room but i’m unmotivated. what’s the point if i might not be there later? nothing has purpose.

i stare at the blank wall every morning. it’s representative of something, i’m sure, but i don’t know what.

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i hate that i don’t know what to want right now. i want to follow through with my original wish, dust myself off and try it again, but i don’t know if i want to broaden myself (because to broaden means to keep myself open and goddamnit i don’t think i can do that).

it’s this constant boredom that annoys me most now. that’s all i am now. annoyed. for there is no marking with which to pass the days.

(because there is nothing and no one with importance of that magnitude to waste hours thinking about)

now when i think, i’m back to how it was before. i’m don’t feel much but i know that my mind is working therefore i feel conflicted.

whenever i feel emotion (even if the feeling is horrible) i feel “alive.” that’s something i can’t say all the time.

i want to want but i don’t know if i can. or what to want.

i used to feel so put together but now i know that it was a hoax (sanity held together by a loosely tied ribbon).

i can only do my best and hope that i will never show that, inside, i am bare and minuscule and sensitive like the most fragile of small children.

but i’m not depressed. i consider depression to be a sign of weakness and i am not weak. i consider depression to be something of a luxury.

(i had a reason for why i thought this but it escapes me at the moment)


think about starving children around the world or hookers with abandoned children etc etc. they don’t have time to sit around and think, “wow. i’m fucking sad.” no. they’ve go to keep living. as long as i am alive i refuse to say “my life is bad” or let it get me down

because there’s alway someone out there who has it worse who’s still making due.

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i cut my hair. it’s shorter than i’d like (right past the nape of the neck) but i don’t care.

fuck what pleases people. i’m not trying to please anyone.

it’s what i do when i feel like i need to change, to be someone different. i think i will put red on the undersides. something different.

i’m too much like a guy. i don’t have feelings. when i feel hurt (and i feel hurt all the time) i cover everything up pretend i’m dead so nothing gets through. i’m too tired to love. i want to be fucked and told i’m pretty.

i have a horrible habit of separating things. i place people into catagories: people you fuck and people you befriend (and although the two needs could be met by the same person i would still see two separate entities). this is why i could be had by everyone in the world and still feel lonely.


i hate the tsa. what a nonsense job. telling me to put all my liquids smaller than 8 oz into plastic bags. telling me that i couldn’t leave with those items if they weren’t in the bags but having signs that allow blades under four inches. telling me that i couldn’t leave with a rum bottle that size but saying that it was okay to buy the same thing in the airport facility.

oh and i hate when planes land i bite my lower lip and think i’m going to crash and die.

i sat in cars, looked at the sky there and honestly thought i could live here. i could live in puerto rico. abandon everything right now and live here. no phones (i hate them anyway) no name no address no way for anyone i once knew to find me. i could abandon everything and live here.

i loved the clear blue water. i hated going back home on the plane because i had to watch the water turn from beautiful to shit.

the highlight of my trip was the rainforest. i got to swim in a huge waterfall. the guide said it was “refreshing.” refreshing meant freezing.


the next man i meet. i will look at his inner thighs and say, “i refuse to look you in the eyes because i might realize that you’re human and i don’t want that. i want bodily fufillment without attachment.

if you begin to love me then it’s over because that’s too much work. i’m being honest. at least i’m not lying to you.”

like everyone else, i once thought that paying for it was the most vile thing ever. now i think it’s about the most honest thing a person can do. everyone knows what they’re getting into.

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