it is the first time in a long time that i feel alive. how very fight club of me.

how predictable, boring.

i feel like kicking someone's head in, or maybe, smashing through walls.

i was touching my face this morning and i never realized before how soft my cheeks are. even so, my cheekbones seem to come through.

i do like the edges of my occular cavities, i do like the fact that i have been biting my lips in my sleep.

they are split on the side, accentuating without gloss. swollen in the morning.

i am noticing how far some people's knuckles stick out. i have only soft dimples.

my fingernails are naturally neat, even though i bite them, and peel at the cuticles, (doing things my mother would frown on, )

(hearing echos in my head of the camp counselor when i was twelve chiding my bunkmate, "don't you know boys look at your hands?"

i wish i had that girl in front of me now, i would punch her sparkling blue eyeshadow off, give her a nice shiner, though she doesn't really deserve that kind of decoration.

boys look at your eyes, too.)

i have a bug bite on the back of my left hand and even though it doesn't hurt and even though it is healing i keep scratching at it hoping for a scar. i'd like my hands to be more rough, dry, angry, split knuckles and scabs on my elbows from falling down.

i feel like crawling across gravel and throwing sand, cutting off my hair in handfuls and stabbing at cloth, hitting things with bats and slipping my fingers into the dents like a lover in between a woman's legs.

i asked for help from st jude and my prayer wasn't answered. this was the first time in my life that i have prayed, and though i know you are supposed to thank st jude for granting your request, i figure it should work both ways.