Arriving home after all my dreaming and imagining in America was a bit of an anti-climax. I was in a daze, in pain, in shock, watching it all slide by as if I were an insubstantial, powerless spirit. Tears weren't streaming down my face, I wasn't awestruck by the beauty of the place, my whole family and every friend I'd ever had weren't waiting for me at the airport, every person in the world wasn't smiling and laughing in pure happiness.

The first thing I saw was how different it all was since I'd left, and how much it was still the same.

"It can only end badly," I once wrote. "Happy endings aren't endings."

The shade of concrete constructions is 1% as pleasant as the shade of trees.

i say yes when i mean no.

i want to be blown with the wind, rustle through leaves and in through open windows, billowing curtains and swirling around the people inside, lifting the hair from their necks.

i was sad when my bruises faded. they were memories. i can barely remember. why? and what have my horrible dreams to do with it? i bit into the skull of a roasted baby the size of a doll. i remember the crunchiness.

i'm starting a teapot collection without meaning to. every time i see a teapot i have to buy it, am compelled to, they're just too charming.

i'm fragile. want to kill myself. haha! can't believe i said that! i sold my sandals on ebay for $22.50. stop talking me into committing myself! i love you buddha. keeping busy.

a point on the list of signs you're in an abusive relationship:
you miss him while he's gone, but feel depressed while he's around.
i hate group therapy. i hated the girl i shared a room with in the shelter. and her chubby, squalling baby.
i need to be disinfected.