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Jan. 4th, 2008

To Summer

School starts in 3 days.
I have a full scholarship from the government as long as I don't fuck up utterly.

"You'd be a fool not to take advantage" is what my parents say.
Yet I feel like education isn't what I need.

I keep picturing myself in 5 years, sitting in a crowded room; sweaty palms, holding a resume full of accomplishments I never earned, and skills I never took the time to learn.

I remember when we were kids we just wanted to be free.
They told us we'd be the generation to change everything.
We turned around and spit right in their face, craving anarchy over change.
We thought we'd never be old and tired with dreams flushed down the drain.

I wish we could move to a place where no knew us, so we could live life, making our own mistakes instead of studying those made by dead men.
Both of us could fall in love, again and again, with wonderful boys who would make us laugh and cry, and cry, and cry... until we couldn't cry anymore.
Money wouldn't matter because we would be happy... or at least, we'd be living.
Living, breathing, loving, feeling; without expectations, without plans, and without fear.

More than anything I wish I could live without fear.
Maybe thats what growing up is all about.
Maybe growing up is all that I really need to do.
I really don't know anymore.

I just know that I love you Summer, and more than anything, I want us to be friends until we're old, and gray, and barely able to ask, let alone fight for what we want.
I hope we can do that somehow, even thought its entirely impractical, like most dreams.

Hopefully you haven't given up on me yet.

Dec. 1st, 2007

The Car Ride Home

I got a ride home the other night from a concerned citizen who was quite alarmed to hear news of my orientation, and was troubled by my apathetic view on the after-life, my soul and all that jazz.
It was nice of her to care, I'll give her that, but it was also the most awkward conversation I've had in years.
She wanted to pray for me in the car which isn't something I've let anyone do in a very long time.
I have my reasons for hating religion, and avoiding it like a disease since I was a child.
Most of my reasons involve the mental rape I endured at 11 years old while in South America. Other reasons of course would be my Mother, who, barely short of castration, did everything in her power to ensure that I would wind up an a-sexual, morally upright minion of Almighty God himself.

For the record: I like to occasionally have sex with men who mean absolutely nothing to me, and I have an insatiable attraction to controlled substances.
I'm vulgar, pretentious, superficial, and yes, lower-class.

I'm a fucked up mess.
Actually I'm little more than trash held together with pretty silk ribbon.
I know it, and I'm the first to admit it.

In God's eyes I'm worthless, abominable I believe was the term once used actually.
In societies eyes it doesn't get much better, because I'm expendable, and too much of a risk.
My death would never be seen as a tragedy. It would be seen as a faceless number in a dusty old book on a shelf. A few might remember if I was lucky, but life is fluid, it goes on like nothing ever happened, and somehow I'm perfectly fine with all this.

I don't need the approval of a vengeful God who doesn't exist to keep on going.
It might make me an intolerant asshole, but at least I'll be the first to admit it.

Stop trying to pray for me. I'm perfectly happy with who I am.
I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear.

Oct. 10th, 2007

Growing Pains

Growing Pains.

I've been getting weaker and weaker the past few weeks, and I've felt far more pain than usually experienced on a day-day basis.

Its getting harder and harder to keep up appearances.

I need to go to a doctor soon.

As much as I hate doctor visits, I think its quite necessary.

Sep. 15th, 2007

Esoteric Narration.

I have felt like a success in my life considering my age, and lack of motivation to adapt, or face reality throughout the years.

But you know how you feel like a success, and then you see your arch enemies from high-school in the lobby at Starbucks... and you suddenly realize that you're still the great big hose-beast that you always were.

As you walk past with a forced smile and a long-forgotten sense of utter inadequacy, a caring friend conveniently remarks at your attire, "Sweetie what is this, you look like a walking thrift-store".

Condescending laughs interrupting pretentious postures, and a nasally "ewww, he's so tragic" follow shortly from a table where the chicest, most bulimic boys you always hoped would notice, are sitting.

And you spend the rest of the night trying to prove to them and yourself you no longer care, by smiling and laughing like a fool at absolutely nothing.

And then you go home, and you lay in bed, for probably about 3 days.
Which is what I'm about to do now.

Don't worry, next time we'll be fabulous.

Sep. 12th, 2007


I got a phone call tonight from a boy I used to be hung up on.
He told me how I was different from all the other boys, and admitted how he had always liked me.
He made me remember for a moment how he used to make me feel.

Then he told me of all the things that are wrong with what and who I am.
He told me I needed to change in order to "give us a chance"

But the thing is... I'm not perfect, and I'm perfectly happy being that way.
I'm not going to live my life trying be something different than me.
If you can't take the good with the bad, then you don't deserve me.
And its just that simple. Am I wrong?

Jul. 31st, 2007

It made me smile.

He looked deep into my eyes and said:

"Stop worrying, because no matter what you do, you're not going to be beautiful forever. But do know, you are so fucking beautiful now."

Jul. 20th, 2007

So over it.

I'm done with the games.
I'm done with the pretense.

I'm worth more than what you can give me, its far from being the other way around.

Having a dick doesn't make you gods gift to the fucking world.
Fucking grow up already.

Jul. 10th, 2007


Its so naive to think I'll ever matter.

I don't care if theres anyone else.
but I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough.
I just want to know that this means something to someone besides me.

Deep down I know its never different. Not this time, not the next.

But your kiss always in the back of my mind...

Nov. 29th, 2006

David Jonathan's Diary: Day 3 into my dire illness.

- I am currently enjoying a relationship with two men simultaneously.
The first called Ben, the other Jerry.

- On that note, weight: 4,000 pounds

-virus status: existent + thriving, and forcing me to consider the
options at hand.

option a) will throw self off roof with noose around
neck if head-cold/fever symptoms do not

option b) will keep on fighting the good fight + will
soon be consensual recipient of
experimental surgery (to permanently keep
voice in its deep, and monotonously raspy,
option c) will unintentionally overdose on immune
system boosters and nyquil; as a result,
will go from delightfully eccentric, to
completely mad, and will streak naked down
street of residence... humping every living
object in-sight.

Until means of defense are chosen, must crawl under covers in defeat, to watch pervy soaps, and yet another dreadful after-school special with Christian undertones; God help me.

Oct. 27th, 2006

A few thoughts on recent events

Few people in this world know the difference between what is real and what is not;
I don't plan on indulging certain acquaintances, by responding to recent accusations, resulting from vain facades I've allegedly manifested.

I don't need friends who will remind me of how horrible a person I apparently am.
If you're looking for someone to put up with your contrived nature and your hypocritical dispositions then please leave me be.

I know what my flaws are, and unlike some people, I don't expect special treatment as a result of them.

I've come to a point in my life where I just don't care what others might think.
I just want to live and be given humane treatment: I don't see how thats such an outstanding request.

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