I wish I could show this to the entire world

Well, they *have.*

Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

- unknown

As long as I'm dreaming, I'd like a new bike.

“I don’t fail. I re-define success.”

.

.

.

I'm going to pretend I was the first person who said that. I'm brilliant, I know. I'm also going to pretend I have a hat that magically fills up with $100 bills whenever I decide I need more $100 bills. I'll be a multi-katrillionaire, and that'll be a real thing because I'm that damn awesome. 

I'll also be half a foot taller. 

...

Starlight, starbright, first star I see tonight...

Nah. Who am I kidding? I just want to be happy. It's not as easy as it sounds, you know. Not for me, anyway. I'm a lot better at sabotaging the sh*t out of myself. So if I had to pick something I'd wish for, I'd wish to have a life that makes me happy.

That's a good thing, right? No selfish intent hiding behind that. And it's true. 

Sonofabitch. Since when am I honest with myself?

My pajamas are telling you to fuck off.

PHOENIX

You are the phoenix! A phoenix is a giant, magnificent bird plumed and wreathed in flame. The phoenix is a symbol of healing and of peace. The phoenix is calm and serene in all things. The phoenix also symbolizes rebirth as this creature is reborn from the ashes of its death during which it erupts into flame and disintegrates. The phoenix can also be a symbol for faith and for hope.

***

At some point I took an online quiz and was told I’m “THE PHOENIX.” That sounds terribly optimistic. Right now I’d love to believe I can “rise from the ashes,” particularly because I’m so spectacularly talented at burning shit down. I think I can still salvage most of the important things, but I’ve been neglecting so many things it’s a wonder there’s anything to salvage. Seriously, why do people still talk to me?

I’m sitting inside a 24-hour Denny’s right now. I’m drinking chamomile tea and pretending I don’t have to go to the bathroom. I’m also not wearing under-things, because Julie kicked me out of bed and told me it’s okay to go to Denny’s completely horrible-looking because it’s fucking Denny’s, and everyone there is a tiny bit less dignified and clean just for being there at midnight.

Besides, there is something wonderful about not giving a shit at all. It’s like you’re giving everyone near you the middle finger. How can you not feel better doing that?

P.P.S. Let's make out.

Dear BootsandBirdcages:

Am terribly sorry I haven’t posted in ages. Life, you know. It likes to kick people in their most important bits. To be honest, I’ve been a bit disillusioned with the idea of posting again on a blog I’ve abandoned for so long. It's as if I've become one of those parents who pretend they have no child until one morning they find Jesus in a piece of toast and realize that they can’t fill the baby-shaped emptiness in their soul with cocaine and cigarettes.


That's why criminals don't return to the scenes of their crimes. It smells like shame and poor decisions.


Also, they might accidentally step on one of the pointy, broken-off pieces of their soul they've left behind. And really- who leaves bits of fucking soul just LYING around, waiting to be stepped on?


Inconsiderate bastards, that's who. That shit hurts worse than Lego. Asshole.


Definition of shame: Imagine successfully ninja-ing out before dawn after a one-night-stand, making it home, sneaking back into your bedroom without even waking your parents up, finally drifting off into that special,extra-restful type of sleep only people with no morals or sense of responsibility can really achieve...

.... and then realizing you don't have your wallet. Or your ID. Because they're still under some fucking car seat. In a town about an hour away that you have no reason to go back to. 

... And you're going to have to explain this somehow to your parents, because you don't have your own car yet because you're still a damned teenage idiot...

...

... It happened to a friend of mine.

... 

So I guess what I’m saying is sorry? For, y’know, abandoning you for months.

Roses mean I love you more than paying rent

Here, I got you flowers.

...

PS. Ur hot :)

Maybe in my next dream, I'll be in rehab.

My day went splendidly today. I woke up from a weirdly-realistic dream in which I was about to get my ass handed to me in little, bite-sized pieces by a bunch of angry mobsters because I was too stupid not to wander into their crime scene. To be fair, I’d had an exceptionally shitty dream-day- my brother somehow crippled one of my friends at the bottom of a ski hill and blamed me, and then no one let me drink the beer I bought to fill up the gaping despair-hole I developed as a healthy coping mechanism. Of course, the only rational response to THAT was to become a raging drug-fiend and steal wads of money from a bunch of unfortunately well-connected crack-addicts. And then wander back into “their turf” because I was tired and had forgotten my favourite shirt (worst day ever) at home which I clearly saw had been broken into and WENT IN ANYWAY because what’s the worst that could happen?

Then I woke up on someone else’s couch. I think I spent ten full minutes glorying in the fact that I hadn’t been hacked apart by drug dealers. It’s an exhilarating feeling, not being hacked apart by drug dealers. Makes you feel alive.

Thing is, I'm one of those nutbars people who believe in things my dad might refer to as “New-Agey voodoo crap.” I even keep a dream diary YEAH. I’M ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE. I’m usually very present and involved in my dreams, which mean I tend to remember them vividly. So strangely complicated dreams unnerve me- little details somehow seem extra-important, and I end up feeling like there’s something I’m missing out on, like a warning or a useful bit of insight. Still, I haven’t really put a lot of effort or thought into dream analysis- I mainly keep the dream diary because of how useful it is for creative writing- so I’m taking the “ignorance is bliss” approach to this. That seems the smartest thing to do, right?

In other news, I started running again. Not very far or fast, and probably with the worst technique since that Friends episode where Rachael tries to take Phoebe running with her, but I’m giving myself a unicorn sticker and a bunch of sparkly eye shadow for effort.