This is probably a good sign. I'm writing in this here page a day again. It's astounding how long I can ignore email reminders. Archiving my hopes daily.

I'm now working on deciding if I'm in love and I think that might mean I'm not. It is possible that I've successfully cut my dick-heart connection since the last time I got a lot of pain from it. I could be just a youngin. But then why does it feel so good to sleep with this great funny fartful man every night? Is it so wrong to let it continue despite my ambivalence about the potential of love.

Last time it crept up on me to. When I went to go as plan I had a chemical withdrawal. I cried.

Maybe I need to practice crying.

Fuck damn midwest stole all my feelings.


The crack heads got my bike again.

Tomorrow I'm going to practice having feelings.

Meditate and smell the air and look at the sun and the surroundings and feel the cool air of fall.

Winter is coming soon and I'm going to need someone to cuddle with anyway.

I can go crazy next summer if I need to. And maybe by then I won't want to.

By then I'll be twenty-two; far from mature.