A boy plays with my mind these days. Mostly in-absentia. Its fun in
bits and pieces. Fantastic in retrospect. I wonder if its important to
people that I write about them.

You leave me hanging. like the rhyme that refuses to complete the poem.

If you think you are emancipated, you might consider the idea of tasting your menstrual blood—if it makes you sick, you've a long way to go, baby.
Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch, "The Wicked Womb," (1970).

Happiness is awfully worrying. I can't talk about it or acknowledge it, in fear of the truth of the jinx. People see nicer now. Or maybe I just don't care anymore. I haven't seen a movie in ages. Its time to let my mind wander some more.

He keeps me occupied when he's not around. I'm quite quite fond of him. I'm also fascinated by my self-indulgent nature.

Someone thought I was pretty. I can never see my name alongside that. Its the second person to have thought so. Thats two for me :) I will make some money soon. By some, I mean very little. But money is money, nonetheless. And, its mine. Someday, I'l have enough saved up to buy myself a television.

My birthday is on its way. Alcohol entices me no more, and I therefore have no plan. My non- dependence is worrying. Although, the irony does please me.

My cousin is off to England (I think). He's off, anyway. I'm going to miss him an awful lot. Its strange how much I've grown to like family in the last few years.

My time comes to a close. Signing off for soul and body :)

I need you. like I do, the words that refuse to leave the warmth of my mouth.

People are strange, when you're a stranger no more.

Its been quite some time since I wrote. I've forgotten how personal I meant this blog to be, and how much I can divulge. And, I'm getting all my punctuations wrong.

The city is nice and familiar. Pretty much everyone I know is in love. Of some sort of another.
Its a taste of queasy displeasure I feel inside.