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I'd really like a best friend

14 June 2000

I want to be the cracked out, skinny teen whose legs tumble clumsily over an orange chair in a black and white commerical. I want to wear the little tank, the kind you sleep in, who sports the pointed nipples, and touseled hair, that is probably greasy but looks good just like that.

I want to play my guitar, rage with voice, bleed my fingertips and cry.

I want to be adored, wanted, lusted, needed.

And I don't want to need any of you. Because I do.


I want to know God. Really know Her. Be Her. Become Him and take you with me.

I want to close my eyes, grasp the colors, and seize the streams and take hold of my soul, who only wishes to be free.

I want to read a book, and let tears swim down my face into dripping pools upon my shirt, the book.

I want to feel something.

I want to feel you, hold you, give myself to you. Everyone. I want to fall so passionately in love with everything so that I can never feel the way that I do...now.

Because it's always been a mystery why it happens, why it hits, why it crushes my lungs, my heart, and these frustrations over nothing fester and linger til I'm ready to push myself to violence.

I want to run through walls. I want to never want anything. Ever. I want to find that spot, that blessed spot that is joy, pure happiness based on life itself, and not on conditions. I want to wrap myself up in poetry, meaningless words, inarticulated thoughts and musings. It all sings clear Snatch..


I crave touch, then push humanity away. I desire worldliness, then find myself lost in media and economy pushed dreams, hollywoods' fantasy and a novel's fantastic beauty.

I claim to make music, knowing it's all been done before.

And God, fuck, when I overwhelm myself, with these feelings, that I don't understand, that I can't comprehend, why goodness, are these tears that flash an instant heat to my cheeks, the crinkled forehead...why am I thinking of Bryan?

Because he was poetry? Because he had life? I don't know, he's nothing. He was a punk. (Laughing), I'm serious he was.

I'm crying. I just want a best friend. Someone more tangible than God, or what James is to me. I need someone here. In my life. Right here with me.

Someone that I could speak truths, and honesty, and tell them everything I'm thinking. And really care when they tell me everything....Because I don't have anyone like that. I don't know why I lock myself up. It's stupid because I know I'm not the only one, the crazy one, we're probably all so much more similar than we think, but why haven't I found anyone? Someone I can give myself to, someone I can trust.

I'm not talking about boys or anything, I just want a friend. Someone I can be close to. Someone I could talk to who wouldn't look at me funny, who wouldn't be so wrapped up in society that they could recognize that I'm just being, just saying who I am, and there's nothing wrong with that.

I wish I had creative juices that others would admire, that I would respect. I wish guitar boy was on (AIM) because just knowing someone so talented inspires me. I need it in my life. I've got to find these things, and pull them in.

But does it matter? Does it matter that at 12:30 in the morning you are helplessly down, and pensive and you haven't a clue why? Does it matter however good my life is, I'll still wonder about things, and wish I had someone?

Today I fantasized about meeting a girl in class who would become my best friend. Cuz I'd really like one. And I can't...I don't know what...I don't know where...or why, or what....that i want.

I have good friends too. Do I just not give them a chance?

I don't want someone who is so narrowminded and stuck on specific ideas, but maybe that's me. Maybe i'm the one with the closed mind. I'm going to bed.






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