ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- and i forget all of my dreams you are something to me but just what it is i don't know ******* "You Are Something To Me" by the american rock group LOVE was almost the last song i ever heard, two days ago, driving home in a car, distracted and in rush hour and looking all around and singing loud, and then realizing i was only a few centimeters from the car in front of me. in my mind, our cars crashed and piled on top of each other and my life ended. i was sure of it. in the world we all share, my brakes squealed and my car stalled, and the people who were driving and saw the whole deal gave me looks of disgust and sympathy and one man pointed at the sky as if to say "You lucky, gaurdian-angel-having motherfucker." my wrist has anti-stalker and beautiful pink bracelets on it. i have this sweet red cowboy shirt, i look really fucking hot in it. want to make out? i am a really good kisser. swear to god. i woke up for the second day in a row where i took my toothbrush and scraped the purple stains of red wine off of the skin on my lips. i rode my bike to work and wondered what spring is like when you're 35, 30, 25 years old. i am 24 and there's so much more. i feel in ways now that are different from any time ever in my life. already there has been so much that i never imagined would be part of who i am, and i hope it never ends. i'm glad i didn't die in a car the other day. you're taping over all your tapes, getting ready for a double date. get me out of the library, and help me remember all my dreams. ******* listen to: phil spector, "spring can really hang you up the most". 2:12 p.m. - 4.27.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||