i like when there's paint underneath, or grease around the cuticles.

or charcoal.

i am terribly tired today.

my head keeps swimming in and out.

i could lay down now, but it's only 840pm. i would feel so desperate and defeated.

today i introduced myself to the man at the news stand, i shook his hand.

i did this because i haven't touched anyone in a month.

and also because he's kind to me.

i am drinking cold tea and watching the lights as cars go back and forth on the interstate.

i am not wearing my glasses, so it looks like a photograph where the exposure has been set too long.

long streaks of white, long streaks of red.

i am going to start throwing things away, and tearing apart books.

i am looking for my exacto knife so i can cut out my favorite words.

i am going to decoupage them to my table, give it a clean surface.

then i will cross out the ones i love the most with dark black permanent lines.

i'll teach myself to give up things of my own accord.