the moon, at least to me, is impossible to photograph. i wish i could have captured it tonight. well i feel like a stupid adult but i'll ask anyway, does it look the same everywhere? the hue was a splendid simmering honey.

i'm made of stars, but isn't everyone? i am made of my mother who may or may not of tried enough but none the less failed. my father who i can thank for the facial features most people like about me. i'm made of the girl who was my best friend all through grade school until i gained 40 pounds one summer and the boy i made fun of everyday who probably doesn't even remember my name. i had a crush on one of the ugliest teachers in school and i still don't understand why. he taught me spanish so i suppose he's also in there somewhere.

i'm made of kindness and certain respects. my happiest trinkets involve pride and togetherness. this family adopted me for a few years and laid a ground in me. they gave me a normal childhood and it remains in me, strong, here for me to pass on to my own. pieces of me are heavy, quite dense and marbled. as i try to make them smaller my elements will only grow stronger.

some pieces are gone. my uncle who died that new years eve took a chunk. someday down the road, like pretty much right now, we would have been good influences on one another. he would have shared my odd addiction to the internet. i gave my virginity away to a lot of people, when i was a bad girl that was my favorite lie. oh i've never done this before. turns out i saved the important stuff for the right person, go figure.

this blog is the only thing i am comfortable drudging up the past for. anyway, despite all of those things, i have moments of brilliant control. i do not lack fire. that's my element. i'm still struggling to use it properly. sometimes i fear the fall of time. if i died tonight i would regret and miss and mourn but somehow i'd smile because i did get some seriously good shit out of this soul.

i was thinking the other day about what a second meeting would be like. my idea is we meet in a park, some kind of wide open space. we wave from a distance and then we replace our seeing glasses with sunglasses. spend the hole day sort of blind. we'd have to spend our day like a michael gondry movie. it's not good to let all of the dreams float out like air from cracked tires.

disguises. i don't wear the same one everyday. i just don't get naked a lot. if we are looking for a problem that would be it. i want to let more people in but i can only seem to do that in the realm of black or white. it's all or i'll do my best to keep this up which eventually turns to nothing. this was a major sad point when you were here and when you were gone. i want to have bunches of roommates. it's like my dream relationship environment. anyway i suppose i disguise my solitude away. it works in a twisted way.

do you see us on a particular path?

i cannot be one sound or speak one word. i am flighty. all bird. i make the sounds of rope, that tight stretched sound they make when they are holding the dock to the boat. cogs. locks being opened. jimi hendrix, famously undone. i must have the tastes of love. warm condensed breath. the salt of myself buried in neck. but if we are being practical i will say strawberries. perfectly ripe, purely organic strawberries. that is a taste i would never tire of.

i wouldn't want a song if death were coming. probably because i always imagine i'll be suffering under stories of water or lying in a ditch somewhere. i can't imagine the event without panic, and when i panic i want complete silence. i need quiet to deal with my insides.

there is always more to be written. two days ago i thought i could never write again, never find the spark. often i am silly.

we are boats, you and i.