There's just no formatting this post. Apologies. Xanga ate my baby... it's always a good time reading through old posts. it's almost like a time machine, sending me straight back to when i felt every emotion with crippling strength. 2004: loving boywonder, not loving boywonder, playdates with rach, liv, and jacks, emails from wanton closet monsters, canoodling with everett and alex, meeting peter pan and loving him better than i should have. 2005: discovering i love the theatre, the year without boywonder, letting certain blonde boys use my heart carelessly, leaving increasingly pathetic voicemails at peter pans house, meeting r. prenger, immediately falling in love with r.prenger, more playdates and nanowrimo. 2006: reconciling with boywonder, my lonely year in london, falling in love with london, missing r. prenger, the long island express, meeting a.carr and j.burg, falling in straight up love with a certain ginger hobbit. 2007: graduation, ginger hobbit chases something younger down the hobbit hole, blast from the past with blue eyes, working at the photo place, karaoke queen, monkey cupcakes. 2008 - 2010: the jon bacon years, kmart, marie antoinette, pathetic parties, a falling out with boywonder (apparently, this is obvious but unconfirmed), the fast lane, sleeping in the car at shaws, xbox in manpanties and the kitchen fight that set me free. 2011 - present: credit union, hanson concerts, get thee to a nunnery, back into theatre, apathy, writing like crazy, dreaming of my closet monster and ways to let go of the boywonder situation, 9 hours of sleep, ignoring folks in the hall, singing jacks mannequin as loud as i can. why do i mention all this? well, lack of regular updates means there will be no archives... and where will i get my wangst when im 30? a fever that overtakes my brain and makes me forget myself, burning my cheeks bright pink and turning my heart upside down. and during this fever you'd come to me, bearing treats and tricks and we'd just lay in bed. you could touch my hair and forehead, and i'd be so hot but you could be so fucking cool. the fan would blow and the candles would burn out and i'd sleep forever. and when i finally awoke my eyes would be wide and bright and not heavily laden with sleep and the haze of a thousand endless nights. rather, they'd be open and waiting to go somewhere big, waiting to drink in tall buildings while my lips sip and drink in hot coffee. i'd buy the top with the dark green cotton and the deep vee neck and the shimmery silvery sequins and pull on jeans a size too small and we could dance, me in heels even though i already dwarf the population. and the heat and the noise would creep up the back of my neck and you could blow it away with kisses behind my ears and on my forehead. and at midnight, ankle deep in icy white snow, a star would fall and people would die and people would be born and still more people would release celebratory screams but the only thing that would matter would be your lips on mine and the champagne bubbles dancing in my eyes and around my brain.
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