URSELAPATCH

the world is just one big fucking explosion of color and activity that i dont much feel like dealing with here at 12.40 a.m. and ive got about six point five available hours left for sleep. but what else is there to do at 12.40 a.m. when the world is exploding around you and you cant sleep anyway? and anyway, dont you feel how warm its getting and dont you think its a sign of something bigger? ooh no i forgot, i dont believe in any fucking signs. i dont even believe in reality, and i walk around like im outside myself like i expect to run into myself next time i turn a corner. i stalk ghosts of myself and i dont even know what they look like, just some stupid distant shape of an idea that i cant put a form to and cant put words to because there just isnt any effort in it. do you see what im saying now? everything has blown up on itself and i dont know how or when or who the fuck is to blame but i cant breathe here in the dark, computer screen glowing like its bigger, better, smarter than nature when nature has to shut off the lights for a while. these stupid little rectangles popping up on the screen like fucking apparitions with words inside them that dont mean anything, written by people who dont mean anything. people i havent seen in years and dont want to see either. and i dont know what to write back so i write meaningless words, the apparition of friendliness and interest when the reality is a gaping blank hole because i just cant bring myself to give a damn. its a box on a screen!!! jesus christ i shouldnt post this because i am not in control of this right now, everything an explosion in my head but i need to sleep and i cant sleep when all these words are in me. who can sleep with all these words in them? youve got to let them out like the blood that drained from my knee when the foot landed on my ankle and sent me skidding across fake turf like some downsized, genderchanged, unheroic football player. and damn did that stupid knee burn today at basketball when the sweat would sneak down into it - wet little needles oozing their slick way into my body, the bastards. thats disgusting. i want to change subjects.

i cleaned my room like crazy today. looked at pieces of paper that i hadnt seen in years and years and years and i am thoroughly convinced that i was one fucked up kid. oh my oh dear yes i was and all those pieces of paper from the past, my god. they were actually terrifying. because i was one fucked up kid and the things i came up with - well, my parents and i had a damned good laugh over them downstairs in the light with the tv in the background but upstairs in that abandoned junk-strewed room with only one in four lightbulbs working it was like a haunting. i tried to throw most of it out but my mother made me go back through it and save some things for her. its still not all clean because i had to get interrupted by fucking basketball (what the hell) but it looks better and maybe one day it will be clean enough that i will be able to stand entering it again, and i can stop sleeping in here where the computer light drives me insane but i cant seem to muster the motivation to turn the damned machine off.

it is 1.00 a.m. and school officially begins in eight hours. i dont think ive done any laundry since i got home from florida a mere two days ago at 11.00 p.m. after thirteen point five short hours in the car. i would kind of like to just stay in what i have on now - a pair of green 7up boxer shorts that i won from a bottle cap, and a navy blue t shirt i found while cleaning my room that proclaims in bright yellow lettering, "student police academy" - but i dont think that would go over too well with anyone involved. it feels good now though because its so hot in here i think the furniture is melting, dripping down to soak through the tiny loops of carpeting and harden into miscolored patches of nastiness.

what the fuck am i still writing for? what?

i went swimming a lot in florida and one day daniel came too and i did an underwater summersault and the water shot up my nose like a fountain despite my best efforts to breathe out and it burned like hell and made me laugh. i feel like that now. i dont know how else to describe this.

ive still got all these explosions of color and activity clogging up inside of me. im a stopped drain, wheres the draino gel when you need it - it clings to the clogs, unlike a liquid - tv is killing me. i looked down from the second story window and the sun reflected from the bald scalp below me. i watched the cars spin out in front of us and the gaping mouths of the drivers inside the eerily rotating vehicles. the sun burned holes in the palm trees that are raping the florida landscape of its beauty. the jacuzzi jets burned holes into the spasm that was eating away at my back and i admitted it felt good. my neck contracted into a tight knot of writhing muscle and i spent fourteen hours in a daze of dreams i thought were real, interspersed with a far more dreamlike reality.

i am not sick. i am so alive i cant breathe. i dont know what it is that allows me to stay the way im supposed to be: breath taken in, breath pushed out, neutral expression, body where it should be instead of taking off down the darkened streets with the cool night air wet on my face. i dont know what it is that sends me to school in the morning, sends me to basketball practice in the evening, sends me home at night. i dont know why i dont just give it all up. why i dont succumb to need to just let everything go.

i am as domesticated as the next person to be sure and i dont even feel like fighting my way out of that. i just want to sit here and let these dreams ramble on until i end with a

goodnight.

what insanity comprised this ugly pieced together post? how dare you reach the bottom?