breakneck speed

Sometimes you fall in and out of love with your bestfriend.

But I fell in love and he, he changed his mind. Then I wrote a love letter. I said I was sorry for the way I was, for how I've become out of a fullbodied desire not to be myself or here anymore. How I don't think I will ever be perfect enough for anyone to stay for, to want, with all the forest fires in my head. And he said...nothing. I didn't want this to stop. So I wait. I wait and am afraid of hope so I think about wanting to have enough guts to hope, but don't. I avoid the disppointment that I assume my life will wrought on itself.

Tuesday I tripped on shrooms and tried to literly rip my face off in a bar mirror downtown as tress and spiders and words climbed out the sides of my cheeks. It's a shame. The broken blood vessels will be a reminder, for the next three months, that the only thing you have left after you do everything that you think you want to do is consequences.

Oh, and I am a pretty good waitress.