I'm so tired of dreaming without falling asleep.

success. it's so much easier without you there. Every once in a while I'll have the most bizarre dreams. Dreams I should wake up exhausted from, in which I can feel tangibly, experience things I've never done in reality, and wake up in the morning remembering only the adrenaline filled details. I swear it, once I felt teeth under my tounge, cheeks under my hands, fingers behind my neck; I couldn't look at them the same for weeks after I came to, not quite trusting that it was dream instead of a devious joke involving heavy cold meds and cruel intentions. I had another last night, probably the third I remember. It was all imagination, I'd never met those involved before, but I could feel vividly. I should have bruised wrists and raw lips, the car door was cold red and the interior was cheap older carpet under an open top. The backdrop and buildings weren't recognizeable, but my plams still remember how it felt. I wake up still expecting to be there. 88 days.

Throats raw from screaming and I haven't said a word.

Awkwardly nervous? more like ridiculously nervous, pathetically nervous, and all for nothing.

Well, I guess now for a different nothing . I've been kidding myself, thinking that it won't matter to me. I've also been kidding myself in thinking that I was ready for this. Why is everyone saying two years like it's infinity? Unprepared is my cliche middle name.

I just hope I come out looking okay.

( it seems that this is always about ' I '; bitch, bitch, bitch -- disgust !)

Scared of the imminent, and praying for change.

88 days

But I stand before you, upon these same selfish feet.

So, I've got a thing for bassists. And dreads. (ugh, eye contact) I wanna stay like this forever, (or something like that) climbing cold fences with cold coffee, feeling alive and not thinking. (I hate not caring now, 'cause I know I'll care later) I'm so awkwardly nervous. 90 days left

I took up croquet today, and I'm on fire.

dream maker, heart breaker

Baby, I keep telling myself, you got nothing but your dreams; and they’re not going to help. Plus, I hate being called baby unironically. But, now I’m free falling. I’m no small town girl but that city’s still longing ( these suburbs just aren't satisfying). Steel guitars sliding on the radio, I’m desperately trying but: lord knows, I can’t change. My sneakers will slap the pavement underfoot, if they have to; and these tests scored might just give me a shot. I'm through with caring about my 30 year problems. Right now getting out of here is all I’ve got to keep me breathing. Worrying about right now is enough. ( head spinning grip too tight control slips through my fingers and heartbeats racing three times faster head's too full to think ) 95 days left

do it for me now

hopes up motivation down inspiration still at zero. 96 days left.

hm.

codename: Gork-E

Shit. this is my reminder to never procrastinate again. And talk about the most bizarre break ever? Chris x2 blast from the past has me thinking of what ifs. And an MIS undercover agent in was I thought was a crazy backwoods great-great-Uncle? who knew. but bless you Uncle P, wish I could have Known you, I bet you had some stories to tell. And I'm working hard to have one killer funeral, 5 isn't enough for me; I'm working hard to have people care.