I will

"privatize" my life and leave it for the DOGS to vandalize. In the dark? We're living on the surface, not beneath the sea! Not underneath the core, to sunken misery.

It's despicable. Impeccable. And throughout freshman year, I realized how much of "the cold life" I've been living. And it's smothering: how OFTEN I see people speak of "the high life" (quite literally, I must add), and how OFTEN they appreciate that.

I'm ... barren to foreign contaminants, seeping through my skin. Through my pores. Well, more so in the field of the senses: a warm, foreign, secret, forbidden touch. (And it's all in my mind--it's all made up in my cherry wooded mind, glazed with honey and amber.)

I'm curious. And this blog is really random.

Must my life always live in metaphors? I prefer it to be that way. But why? That conflicts with my decisions, surely. My way of "handling" people (as if they didn't have feelings, m'dear).

I write better when I am NOT seen.
But isn't that contradictory?
Writing something that no one will read?

Unbelievable. Make up your mind already (it's 3:16AM, fool!).

I will.