And the grain grew, from an abandoned land,
and the soil flourished without water.

Deep inside, I hate all of you.

THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE

"Would you like to go out sometime?" I asked.

She stared at me for a moment. "I can't."

"All right."

"I have a boyfriend."

"OK."

She smiled. "I'd really like to. You understand."

Sure, I understood a lot of things. It was amazing how intense my disappointment was. I couldn't believe it. I hardly knew her, I kept telling myself, I was never going to know her.

"How long have you been going together?" I asked.

"Two years. He's a great guy. You'd like him."

"Would he like to go out with me?"

She laughed. "You crack me up."

"I'm just one big bundle of laughs."

She quieted. "Thanks for asking. You're a nice guy, Mark."

Nice. I hated that word.

See You Later by Christopher Pike

God, help me to finish everything I sta

To me, you are beautiful.

All she did was swim,
in a bowl full of water,
a bowl which seemed like an ocean to her,
she would swim all day,
and swim all night,
swim when the lights were bright,
and swim in moonlight.
But she wanted to swim more,
go deep, deeper, and swim in the deepest...
One day as she was swimming deeper,
her lungs caught dust,
and she could swim no more.

I touched your footsteps and gauged as much of the sands that I could hold,
all of it fell down on the ground though. So I lay there where you were, and I lay there as the sun fell asleep.

On drama.

Isn't really much about breaking dishes,
or breaking relationships,
or breaking whatever was mend.

What is drama.

Why'd you call me dramatic.

When the turmoil in me takes all the space, it spills over. That's drama for you. I don't have a word for it.

I've been meaning to write to you. A long time ago really. All I ever did was talk, but I think you should learn to read now. Like I taught you to read my lips. Now you'll learn how to read, word by word.

This world is confusing. Or so we all think. In reality, all it is, is a giant whirpool. And we are fishes. And some fishes are big, some are small.. some are so used to swimming that they'd die if taken out of the water. And some.. some dream of escaping the water..and flying. A giant whirpool, yet it can get so lonely here. All you see is water, and more water. Are you sure you want to be a part of this world. Aren't you happy where you are now?

I sometimes don't want to bring you here. That'd be selfish. I think, "would she like it here? what if she is sad and wants to go back, how can I take care of her.." I keep asking myself questions. That's why sometimes I don't talk to you like you want me to. I get lost in my own thoughts.

I wish I could visit you in your world, where you now live so peacefully. But I'm afraid I might contaminate your happiness.. because I belong to a different world. I have always known you, felt you in me.. and I have wished for us to be together. Playing in a playground, looking at the sky, making paper boats and letting them float in the sea... there's so much that I wish for us to do. You want that too don't you? But you have to decide. You have to decide if all this is worth it. This isn't such a nice place to live... all who come here become sad.. all who enter are chained.

Maybe it's not such a good idea to visit me. Stay where you are. We'll write to each other.

I will name you Sky. And you will be mine.
My Sky.

What am I running away from.

Where do I want to go.

Where will I end up.

And I just bought a hat.
              But I don't dwell on it. I don't say over and over, "I just bought a hat."
              "I just bought a hat." It doesn't matter.

Yin Yang

I've begun to want to be someone. Someone of a clear color, of a race, of a soil, of a whole - a part of something. But wouldn't that dissolve me. Do I need to be separated from everything to find who I am. My Identity. Me. But isn't there something that makes me. What would I be if were to be separated from that something?

Do I need to be lonely to meet myself. But what do I offer to the world when I'm isolated. What defines me.

My individuality, or my offerings to the world. Am I, my actions, or my silence. Am I, my accomplishments or my failures. Am I, what I'm to you, or how you are without me?