May 22, 1930

oh, yes. happy birthday, steven patrick morrissey. you too.

procession

yeah. maybe

i just don't know.

why i am a seventeen-year-old girl

[the white hot room, the waiting room]

the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired

cream_crackers were roaring with laughter watching "17 again", "a night at the museum 2" and "ice age 3" trailers
i felt ashamed

[10days without gngrbrd. difficult. last time we spoke was 25h ago. i get jealous i was replaced with others. it bugs me.]

why i am a seventeen-year-old girl

[ tom hollander making out with hugo weaving. mmmmmmm. james purefoy. mmmmmmm. kevin mckidd. mmmmmmm. kevin mckidd making out with james purefoy. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. ]

let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave

i put the hood on
red
like the comic book villain
and i'm tough

no one can see me
and what i'm trying to hide


i want to grow gills
dive into a deep, clear pond
and rest at the bottom
sleep for years

i'm tired of tasks, duties and entertainment
of friends, adults and disappointments
of sounds, images, scents, flavors
i'm tired of people, ideas, noise
of thinking, talking, interacting
of plans, hopes, expectations

i'm tired


[ gingerbread says: if your powers are running low, just put on your cape, superhero. ]