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red_like_me

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(no subject) [Nov. 30th, 2006|07:27 pm]
red_like_me
I still miss you.
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(no subject) [Nov. 23rd, 2006|11:28 am]
red_like_me
To cut or not to cut?
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Have you ever doodled dreams of arsenic? [Nov. 17th, 2006|12:17 am]
red_like_me
You are not as good as you think you are. You fucked up my life and I'm going to fuck yours up, too.
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(no subject) [Nov. 16th, 2006|08:46 pm]
red_like_me
I know Jesus likes me and I'm so happy that he is my friend. And I feel wonderful to be liked by such a lovely person.

But as far as the earth is concerned, I want someone to like me.
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(no subject) [Nov. 16th, 2006|08:43 pm]
red_like_me
I know the best way is to be myself. And I like doing that because it's so free, but it's also captivity because I'm likely the only one who likes it.
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(no subject) [Nov. 14th, 2006|03:36 pm]
red_like_me
I've thought about different things I could do to let him know where I'm at. Movies gave me the idea of a short glance, but in real life the possibility of him not agreeing with it makes it too frightening and far-fetched. When he came over to the water fountain that one time, I should have said hi, but my ears were boiling with forgetfullness.
Class left history for an assembly, and I walked out with Jill, wondering if he would take the opportunity to follow behind me. Nope.
We walk in single-file and they seat us in rows. I sit down and turn to see if he's somewhere close behind me. Nope.
I turn back to settle my things on the floor. That's his shoe next to my bag. Those are his shorts. That's his sleeve on the arm-rest.
Was this supposed to happen? Who engineered this? Him or God? Or Satan? Or no one?
How am I supposed to sit? My thighs look big unless I cross them, which seems too snooty. I'll just hold the weight of my legs on my tip toes so that the epidemics don't blubber all over the seat until they pass us the paper so I can cover myself. Ok. Wait, I'm too tall in my seat because of my relatively massive torso. Slouch a bit, there, so you're not higher than him, and not more dominant. This is his responsibility, too, and I want him to know that. Ok, here's the paper, good I can relax my feet. I can feel the pressure of his hoodie sleeve on mine. Wow, that's nice. Every time he moves I get it--- there, contact.
Maybe complementing his hair would be a good way to start off, that way if he is where I am he knows to inch his way in, and if not, someone likes his hair and that's nice. Nothing awkward in that. I think about asking him to borrow his pen for a second, but he puts it away before I work up the nerve.
I don't know what this means.
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To the lovely Jake: [Nov. 12th, 2006|06:25 pm]
red_like_me
Found this scrap of paper from a while ago in my Bible from the first time I saw him since that day:

"The hairclip that once held my hair to the side so you could whisper sweet promises is now scraping the skin off my arm."
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(no subject) [Nov. 9th, 2006|03:48 pm]
red_like_me
She lives on Tisbury lane.
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(no subject) [Oct. 31st, 2006|09:50 pm]
red_like_me
She wore a bag of a dress stitched from different scrap materials as if it was supposed to represent demented poverty (or isolation). Her face was painted white.
"Is she supposed to be a baseball?"
The stiches held together what was constantly falling apart. There was gauze around her wrists and neck, and ketchup bled through.
How dare she.
I would have preferred another little-red-riding-whore.
How offensive. How unsettling.
How dare she.
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(no subject) [Oct. 29th, 2006|04:12 pm]
red_like_me
Just wanted to share some valuable words from a powerful person:

"Give yourself some time...give yourself some credit...we're all lovely specimines and we're getting better at it.

Love all around us. Spread this."
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