my books. my lovely, gorgeous, beautiful books. all of them in garbage bags in the garage. all because my dad needed to exercise his authority over the household. all because he had a few too many. there are almost 200 of them. i paid for all of them with my hours measured in $9.50. i asked my mom to stop him but she laughed and told me she couldn't do anything. i managed to save my harry potter books though. my arms are a little bruised but that is not too bad. he can't hurt me like he used to. i am growing stronger day by day while he is getting weaker. he is scared of me. dumbledore says that tyrants fear the ones they oppress most of all. i am waiting now. i'm going to save them just like they save me all the time. all my bukowski, wilde, fitzgerald, dumas, barrie and so on and so forth. they are the geniuses pressed like leaves between pages. perfectly preserved and so fragile. books need protection but they also offer protection in a different sense. i am not alone. i have music and friends and polar bear cookies from starbucks and crisp winter mornings that aren't as cold as you'd think and i have paper and i have a pencil and i have the internet and i have my pencil sharpener and i have my compound and double angle formulas and i have electric potential and electric current and resistance and love and hate and revenge and redemption and my pearls and my iPod Touch and my laptop and my pencil case and my socks and all my new clothes and my job and my school and my math teacher who believes in me and my best friends who let me yell at them and my enemies who let me love them and my new shoes that my mom hates but i love and my bank account and my mail box key and i have harry potter and ron weasely and hogwarts and hermione granger and sirius black and remus lupin and albus percival wulfric brian dumbledore and i have my thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams and i like me just the way i am. i will save my books. don't worry about me because i am so strong. i will keep getting back up and i will keep defending myself. i will never grow up more than i have to. you can't count on me completey but i will try. and i will keep trying. i hear snoring now so i think i will go hide my books in the suitcases in the basement. don't worry, my books will be saved. and i will just save myself while they are in hiding. it's okay. it's okay. don't get upset. i am here. and you are not alone.

i am dreaming of people i will never meet. they are those little girl dreams where you always have someone to help you look both ways. then a fox walks slowly up that spiral staircase and you know what is going to happen before it does. the scene will freeze and you don't get to see past the third step. with a swish of a tail, the animal disappears into the unknown of what you cannot see yet. when you do see, it is too late. but that doesn't matter because you know what is going to happen before it does. WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THIS just let your mind unravel and you will see. lose your marbles, loosen that screw, empty that attic, etc. there is a solution but i can't see it because i am blinded by my lack of faith. there is no feather. there is no watermelon. there are no laws of gravity and no vacuum. the variables are there but there is no equation. no concept or cause. i am begging with time to let me go. like the song but better. i don't want to see that flash of past in my peripheral vision. there is no cure except for sleep. i am short-circuiting. i could break it like the flip of a switch but it is not that easy. there are too many variables counting on me to set things right. my heart can barely write haikus it's so dumb. my head could give up on legs it's so angry. where have my fingers been i said where have my fingers been what what t'as une banane dans l'oreille quoi t'as une banane dans l'oreille quoi t'as une banane dans l'oreille quoi j'entends rien j'ai une banane dans l'oreile "tiny hope armies fight just outside the greenzone of my head. you can't imagine the things i would do for you." -pw paraphrased

here i was, getting all riled up over people who don't matter. it's a great freedom to be able to look at someone and decide how they affect me. you can't bother me unless i let you. and if i let you, it's because i know you won't even bother trying. i guess i just let go.

i keep seeing the similarities even though you sauntered away too long ago. but of all the gin joints. it means nothing that we're both rushing to where we need to go- rushing in opposite directions toward "matters of consequence."

Et un rapide illuminé, grondant comme le tonnerre, fit trembler la cabine d'aiguillage.

"Ils sont bien pressés, dit le petit prince. Que cherchent-ils ?"

"L'homme de la locomotive l'ignore lui-même ", dit l'aiguilleur.

i'll be frank. not the person, but the adjective. i have many relationships but they are all sick. the strongest one i have ever had was for about a year and some. it was based on how messed up we both were, so obviously it ended. we still talk once in a while. sometimes i'm up and sometimes she is- vice versa. oh, and by relationships, i mean in general. i'm not even going into the specific sense, because those ones are simply ill. i've shelled out a lot of money for people to listen to me, but it never get the results or the connections necessary. so i just sit in my basement and talk to God. i'm trying to keep busy but i'm so, so sick.

i'm trying to conquer but i just dont have the leadership skills to make it happen. and then i had to go and hate my old habits so they came back. i'm so tired and sad that my entire body seems to be feeling double the amount of gravity than usual. i must be assyrian in the way i'm stretching myself so thin. this grave lack of connection has me sitting with a handful of live wires. i'm trying so hard and i'm just failing. it's awful when you study for 3 hours and fail. or when you work 6 hours straight and then get yelled at and then have to go back to work. all the books and movies and songs i have loved mean nothing because they aren't real and never will be. it's always been just me, trying to convince myself that all "real life" needed was a dash of fiction to make it better. it all goes to shit no matter what you do. in the end, we're just compost and history homework for the next generation. listen to tyler durden because "you are not special." i don't have any room for "hitting bottom" this week or next week or the week after. i'll try to see if i can do next month, but no guarantees, OK?

the harmony between harry and ginny is so pretty! the musical is definitely worth watching! their other series "little white lie" is also great. yesterday after school i went with two friends to starbucks. and afterwards we bought the game apples-to-apples in wal-mart. then we played it in kravings cafe for two hours. when we got to my house we build an enormous fort with millions of sheets and whole lot of chairs and watched the musical on my laptop with loud speakers. it was nice to do something fun but i wish i'd just home and slept. i'm too tired for fun. i have to keep a semblance of a balance though.

school, work, homework, sleep. that has been my schedule since monday. I have never been a big fan of school. When I was in Grade One in India, I actually jumped out of a moving rickshaw so I wouldn't have to go to school. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I don't have that much nerve anymore. I am in Grade 11 at a Catholic High School somewhere north of the States. This semester I have Grade 12 University Math, University Physics, University Immersion French and World History to the 16th Century(this is my just-for-fun course). None of my courses are too amazing and I've been bogged down with homework since day one. It was nice seeing some of my friends again since I avoided parties like the plague this summer. This coming school year is going to be average.

i want to save somebody to save myself. i've been getting to know myself so much with these very late nights and i know that to redeem myself i have to help someone else redeem themself. there's no take without give and there's no unhappy queen without an equally unhappy king. all the songs i love are also loved by somebody else. i'm a hysterical mess right now but i know that means someone else somewhere else is hysterically happy. i wouldn't change it if i could. all the past connections have been severed and i feel the itch even though i know that there's nothing there anymore. the only solution is to bow my head and walk away with whatever grace i have left. i'll take the itch over the wound anyday. i used to think of "i will work harder!" as a slave driver's chant, but i know now that it's the faith in ones own ability to improve and overcome any obstacle. old friends should remain so because that feel won't ever be the same, no matter how much quote your past-selves. if you cloud your eyes with every sunset you've ever seen and stop at that proverbial gas station to fill your lungs up with roses, then you can get through anything with or without a team. all the souls that have ricocheted off of yours may not have the same dents as yours but at least, for that particular moment in time, they all bent at the same frequency. this is a memory. or at least, it will be.

my last healthy relationship died when i flushed those seeded clouds out of my system. immediately, after the last effect wore off, you were gone in a blue flash. and i paced around for about two years, saying to myself the whole while, "that pan better not come back. he'll get a lung full of charcoal, he will." this room isn't the same with swag(ger) because my spirit has been frozen to the quick for three years- right around last call. i'm just spewing nonsense because it's easier than being quiet and i dont have enough time to sleep as much as i would like. conclusion: the inventory check is complete- we've scanned the floor(no shelves) only to find a memory or two(not even enough to get nostalgic about) and there is a grave deficiency on close friends. build it(shelves) and they will come.