s is for straight.

S is for straight. as curled as it may be...


pain in my chest. pain from the strain from not knowing what to say. and for wanting so badly to say something. and knowing that everything you say is gonna turn wrong. and then actually saying something and having your fears confirmed. and that resulting in the pain. again. and again. and loss, fucking loss is how i feel. los for words, or knowledge of what im supposed to do. cause every sentence that makes her skin crawl is ten times better than the twenty sentences i dare not say and know not of what to expect. and it just sucks, especially when there is so much i need to ask and clarify and so much is eating me, and eating the time left till that plane leaves. fuck la. and im sincere in every way. and avoiding sarcasm so much. and your inability to perceive that kicks.



when i was younger i was told that red lights meant stop, green mean go, and orange meant jam. and blue was for mrt trains to go. and i accepted that pretty easily. i mean i could see the blue lights on the mrt trains even back then. buyt it always troubled me. why then was there no 'stop' for the trains.. and why blue? i mean there arnt any cars up there. cant it just be green as well. not like their gonna get confused or anything. hmmm. puzzled me endlessly. sigh. cant remember when it was i realised the blue lights came from the SOS phones on the train tracks. but i knew by then it didnt come as an offense to my sensibilities nor was it a surprise in any way. strange.



i love my classmates. they all make me feel so loved. so protected. their like huge family of big sisters and moms. and i dont know how horrible i might feel without them.



and while im at it i love my mom and my dad and my bro and my sis. loads.



my phone is screwing with my feelings. dont blame me if you cant get through.


three essays in a row. four pages each. im done for the night.