I think I've learned to deal with anger in a unique way.


I become overwhelmed with irritation/anger, I laugh.

me: babe, someones trying to fucking talk to me on facebook
me: saying that they wanna grab my butt
me: im scared
me: :/
Brandnewthug: ugh
Brandnewthug: when i read that
Brandnewthug: i went WTF and got mad
Brandnewthug: but then i realzied youre being a clever son of a bitch


I forget how funny you are some times. I had a good laugh.

vacation

a winter vacation with my best friend and my lover in san fransisco.


lets do dis.

chicharrones de harina

"yeah i love those chip things with chili and lemon, but alot of lemon!"
"yeah and then they get all soggy at the bottom!"
"yeah and then you get the sogyy ones..."
"and you put it on a chip thats still hard!"
"YEAH YEAH!!! I DO THAT TOO!!!"
"yess!!! we eat chips the same way!"
"yes!! we're perfect for eachother!!"


(we high fived and gave eachother a bro hug.)




yeah, thats how we work.

I'm flipping through the photo book that i've kept in my head. I can see me as a young girl with fantasies that spread like wild fire. I can see yesterday and tell you how unimportant it was that I was laying down on someone else's bed eating a churro.


All of these pictures have small tiny captions and colorful stickers and cliche sayings surrounding them. I always lose count when i try to remember how many mental pictures I've saved along the road that I call my life and my education and my birth.


I wanna tell you the story of each and every picture. Every second wasted on fun times and every second wasted on teenage dreams. Its ridiculous how the beauty of it all seems to fade away when I think about the whole picture together. It's one of those things where the small things count the most. I don't like looking at the bigger picture because I'm looking in a mirror and seeing flaws that I don't appreciate and mistakes that I don't want to relive again.




But then I stop, and I find myself on a page where I have a picture of me, here and now. In this same exact spot and in this same moment in time and I'm smiling. I'm smiling because I'm happy with the adventures and the risks and the things ive learned. Not many people can look upon their own life books and smile and rejoice over the things they've accomplished. Many have still nothing to accomplish and nothing to smile over.


I appreciate the stories and the slow steady beat that I hear every single time I restart another one. I can tell them for days. I can mix and match words but the ending will always be the same. This isn't a game of telephone. This is my life, and you may think life is a game and you must do your best to win. But my life isn't about winning, it's about living. So cliche and you laugh and you smile but I'd rather lose than not breathe and feel and smell the air that surrounds me when I'm making mistakes or I'm reaching goals or I'm taking a walk in a new neighborhood and meeting new people.


This all seems to fall back into this jazz and blues sound stage. I feel like the wooden walls are about to fall at any moment. But i'm okay with every single part of it. I know what's behind it.






I know who I am.






I know who I want to be.






And, I know that I'll get there.





So keep flipping the pages. Keep retelling the stories. Keep taking your pictures.


It'll all match up to something one day.You'll look in the mirror and you'll see the field of mixed and matched happiness.

momentary silence. books and books filled with letters, periods, and numbers.


1
2
3



here we go again. im counting and im whispering. im falling in love with nothing, over and over again.



im opening the door and im closing it. time will waste but it is my time to consume. the cold hasn't come yet.




where have i gone? where did i come from? lets make lists and lists of things that we'll find in undiscovered treasure chests.




milliseconds pass and the worm hole grows bigger. the more you blink the more you miss.




im still writing and im still finding where the black falls into the spaces from and i can't seem to find my way out. the more i lose the more i count.







4
5
6




come closer and we'll find the bridge. come closer and ill tell you the secret. ilied. thereisnosecret.
my words are just mashed together to make a secret.



is it really a secret?




come closer.








the end.

when do you know

when enough is enough?




I'm constantly trying to find this certain measurement as to where it will be enough or not enough.


Am i looking for a cup? Am i looking for a spoon? Am i looking for a long skinny object that uses mercury to identify the enough-ness? I'm still not quite sure but when I know, I'll let you know.





I am given freedoms sometimes, and sometimes I am not given freedoms.




I don't like to hear myself complain about it constantly. I don't like to hear people say they have it better off. I don't like to hear people say they have it worst.



"You don't want to hear what i have to say. You don't want me to get into this."





Maybe if I was gone, you wouldn't even have to know about it.



Good luck to you and your offspring and let the joys of life bring them the happiest thoughts.