eleven march
nine : eighteen p.m.

"i am getting impatient and lazy and depressed. i have all of this fucking passion and nowhere to put it. it makes me want to cry and swear that i have changed. when. actually, i have become weaker."

i know why all of this is happening. and i finally admitted it.

"i want to be..overwhelmed."

"by a new boy?"

"no. no. although that is part of it. he is definitely overwhelming. that's the only word i've been able to use all week. every time he passes by or speaks to me or laughs from across the room, it knocks me over and my head starts screaming for me to befriend him. but that's not enough. i can't do it myself. i want to drown in something. anything."

music : wshc
literature : catcher
fixation : death cab tomorrow..