Tonight I sat in my brother's car, clumsy with knobs. I thought about Sunday; Jason ferried me in a shiny blue bicycle and I cried out with my legs suspended, blinded by his back. All week I punish myself with an apocalyptic volume of sleep, the other day I lay next to you and we slept, I told you I dreamt of you and you said, "me too". Magical moments like these grieve me, where did our love disappear too? I trick myself that it has gone in hiding, Banish the dishonest clouds in my head and get over you, emptied loveshell.

One of my inspirations ( a fellow human and not an abstract entitiy ) has designed a beautiful concept which I am most in awe of; I want to contribute too.

The past week has been surreal, and not in a good way. I am uncertain how we should be defined but I will immerse in the present and forsake longsightedness for now.

In school political science continues to intrigue me, I am torn between realism and liberalism with a leaning towards the latter, and likened Jason to hard-core realist John Mearsheimer, eternally suspicious. We have to write a paper, and there is a mad determination not to pick the same question.

At dance class we have discovered the clicking of character shoes, and I bought ribbons for the flats! Ballet seems to glorify pink which I once resisted irreconcilably. The hatred has softened but I would scarcely consider myself a pink advocate.

Bye I hope the warm weather will hasten and leave us prematurely and we will be happy again.

We are melting in the heat, it is the reason for everything; pimples, unruly hair, tempers, sleeplessness, crushed spirits and terrible emptiness. I suffocate in my dreams and stir every night, but I cannot blame the temperature because I control it via the bedside device. Last night I accounted for it by catching a winged intruder.



I made 2 decisions this week that I wish to take back, and I hate regret. Therefore I applied remedy upon myself: sissored my fringe and tugged eyelash off my lid. Next I wonder if I should pigment my hair?

Because I was so overwhelmed by these words:

"I saw that for a long time I had not liked people and things, but only followed the rickety old pretense of liking. I saw that even my love for those closest to me was becoming only an attempt to love... - contemptuous of human softness... hating the night when I couldn't sleep and hating the day when it went toward night. "

F. Scott Fitzgerald, Voice of the Jazz Age/The Crack Up

And, on losing his wife to mental illness, who wrote him ' I love you anyway- even if there isn't any me or any love or even any life.' - Zelda

" I left capacity for hoping on the little roads that led to Zelda's sanitarium"

Could not possibly have been expressed more precisely. I need to start Great Gatsby urgently.