after the ceremony where i spent as much time as i could staring, she somehow happened upon my party. she showed her complete "overance" once again by talking to my parents, while i just stared again, eating an apple pie. <--how ironic. she turns me into a mute. i can't talk to her how i did when she was my girlfriend, and i can't talk to her how i did before that...so i just don't talk. i've got a feeling this doesn't work very well for me.

graduation itself wasn't anything special. i woke up at five thirty in the God damn morning...and of course, i did my usual body attacking itself for being stupid enough to be up this early thing. had my pepto for breakfast, which kinda helped.

yesterday, or something similar to it, a broken friend told me that she'd write a letter of recommendation for me for the position of boyfriend. i laughed. i think it might be funny to actually have her write it, and then send it to thailand. is that too specific? do i need to be more vague in these? does it matter anymore? i think 'no' is a sufficient answer to those questions.

dead leaves and the dirty ground plays well into the late night.

i wish i was who i say i am and pretend to be.

i want to be a holy man, but i'm just a sinner.

i smile when i think about next school year's adventures...my dad questioned me again about my convictions. i told him the truth, or at least part of it. i think the only one in my family who kinda understands is my Oma. that reminds me, i have no culture and live like it. a nomad. exile. i wish i had a title as specific as those. then that might give me some direction.

my wounds are deep.

i really hate the fact that i still think about her. and i really hate how that makes it worse. and i really hate how that's the only thing i talk about consistently.

i really wish i was talented.

i've been thinking about that Iggy Pop picture, you know, where he's cutting his chest open on stage. i think that's weird.

fucking hell. pessimism sucks. (so does spelling.)