Saturday, December 06, 2008
okay, so i fail at this poem a day gig.
but the good news is that i'm halfway
to completing my anthology.
no prizes for guessing the theme.
but yes. halfway.
except i need more happy poems.
and i am going to write them.
for reasons apart from proving that i can.
um, yeah. i did something significant yesterday.
but i can't remember...oh wait, how could i forget?
I FELL IN LOVE.
with zac efron.
don't laugh.
but yes, i saw hsm3 with my homegirls
lizzie lah and e.
okay, so i don't call them that.
and i think that they'd look at me strangely if i did.
but i had to be consistent with homegirls!
oh, oh, OH!
and i got a haircut.
it's pretty drastic.
my hair is now shoulder length
with layers
and super curly bouncy.
i haven't decided if i like it yet.
it'll take some getting used to.
but i got a positive response from a random guy
on the bus.
yes. alright.
JESS HAS TO STOP PICKING UP GUYS ON PUBLIC TRANSPORT.
but he was cute.
and i didn't get his number.
i think he was a bit of a dick, actually.
but you know.
IT IS PROOF OF THE SEXY HAIRCUT.
oh, and erin and liz and my mom liked it as well.
okay, so everyone is at grad
or interstate
or overseas right now.
and my plans for the night cancelled.
i was originally going clubbing
but my cousin had to postpone.
sigh.
so let's party!
by myself.
with poetry.
I NEED A LIFE.
will someone get me one for chrissy?
pleassssse?
and now, i have to write two poems.
to make up for yesterday.
and restore equlibrium.
and decrease entropy.
i don't know why writing does that.
but it does.
i met you in my dreams last night,
the perfect guy, cute as a button,
holding me tight and just talking for hours,
taking the bus with me, kisses on the cheek,
every aspect of you enchanted me, your hair,
your eyes, the way you made me laugh, cry,
and we were just friends. that's all.
perfect guy for love and we only had friendship,
and when i woke up, i couldn't believe that
i'd let you slip through my fingers, given up what
may be my only chance at true love (albeit,
i was glad that i was dreaming of you and not
the same old guy, the ex my subconscious won't
acknowledge that i'm over) but there was something
oddly comforting about our imagined friendship
that makes me crave it now, just to have a guy
in my life with no expectations, no benefits,
no pressure to be perfect, someone i'm not,
and dreamboy, if you exist, please, please,
come to me, let me find you, because right now,
i need you more than anything.
the worrying thing is that
i actually had that dream last night
and dream!boybestfriend was cute.
he was white and had blue eyes
and shaggy brown hair.
he worked at like, target with me or something.
yeah, i know. weird.
one down, one to go.
headdesk.
but i must treating writing as a job
if i want to drop out of med school
and continue to live a bludgy existence
and be a poet.
why are happy poems so hard to write?
i think i need more for the start of the anthology.
the end is done.
the middle needs work as well.
le sigh.
i wish you were here, i wish that
you were with me right now, whisper
in my ear that it's all okay, that this loneliness
won't last, that i'm stronger than this, that i'm passionate,
that i can make it, that i have a reason for cahsing this dream,
that i'm something because, in this moment, i feel as if
i'm nothing. as if i've worked all my life, and it's come
to this, a summer of isolation with no one to keep me
warm at night, to protect me from the crashing waves,
from burning the bridges that will keep me alive, from
entertaining my own masochistic fantasties, the ones where
i imagine my tombstone, my burial, and i hate how weak
i am, that i need your comfort, but i guess that's love,
seeking solace in someone else, giving them your heart,
and begging them not to break it, opening up your soul,
carefully, caressing it like porcelain, and hoping that,
even in anger, they won't drop your prized possession,
leaving it to crash to the ground, to form a puzzle of
one million pieces, impossible to solve. i hate to say it,
but i think i love you, and i want you here, i
want you in my life, i want to feel you arms and
listen to those cheesy lines you have, i want you to
be my world, and i don't know how this will end, if
it's meant to last, if you deserve me, if i'm worthy
of having a guy like you in my life, but i need you,
right here, right now, and i'm willing to sacrifice it all
just to make this work.
okay, that wasn't a bad happy poem!
was it?
it was a good attempt. i think.
but it's still sad happy.
why do i have this pervading sense of melancholy?
mm, i should go to bed.
before i drive myself insane. again.
peace out & God bless.
lovelove, jess xx
but the good news is that i'm halfway
to completing my anthology.
no prizes for guessing the theme.
but yes. halfway.
except i need more happy poems.
and i am going to write them.
for reasons apart from proving that i can.
um, yeah. i did something significant yesterday.
but i can't remember...oh wait, how could i forget?
I FELL IN LOVE.
with zac efron.
don't laugh.
but yes, i saw hsm3 with my homegirls
lizzie lah and e.
okay, so i don't call them that.
and i think that they'd look at me strangely if i did.
but i had to be consistent with homegirls!
oh, oh, OH!
and i got a haircut.
it's pretty drastic.
my hair is now shoulder length
with layers
and super curly bouncy.
i haven't decided if i like it yet.
it'll take some getting used to.
but i got a positive response from a random guy
on the bus.
yes. alright.
JESS HAS TO STOP PICKING UP GUYS ON PUBLIC TRANSPORT.
but he was cute.
and i didn't get his number.
i think he was a bit of a dick, actually.
but you know.
IT IS PROOF OF THE SEXY HAIRCUT.
oh, and erin and liz and my mom liked it as well.
okay, so everyone is at grad
or interstate
or overseas right now.
and my plans for the night cancelled.
i was originally going clubbing
but my cousin had to postpone.
sigh.
so let's party!
by myself.
with poetry.
I NEED A LIFE.
will someone get me one for chrissy?
pleassssse?
and now, i have to write two poems.
to make up for yesterday.
and restore equlibrium.
and decrease entropy.
i don't know why writing does that.
but it does.
i met you in my dreams last night,
the perfect guy, cute as a button,
holding me tight and just talking for hours,
taking the bus with me, kisses on the cheek,
every aspect of you enchanted me, your hair,
your eyes, the way you made me laugh, cry,
and we were just friends. that's all.
perfect guy for love and we only had friendship,
and when i woke up, i couldn't believe that
i'd let you slip through my fingers, given up what
may be my only chance at true love (albeit,
i was glad that i was dreaming of you and not
the same old guy, the ex my subconscious won't
acknowledge that i'm over) but there was something
oddly comforting about our imagined friendship
that makes me crave it now, just to have a guy
in my life with no expectations, no benefits,
no pressure to be perfect, someone i'm not,
and dreamboy, if you exist, please, please,
come to me, let me find you, because right now,
i need you more than anything.
the worrying thing is that
i actually had that dream last night
and dream!boybestfriend was cute.
he was white and had blue eyes
and shaggy brown hair.
he worked at like, target with me or something.
yeah, i know. weird.
one down, one to go.
headdesk.
but i must treating writing as a job
if i want to drop out of med school
and continue to live a bludgy existence
and be a poet.
why are happy poems so hard to write?
i think i need more for the start of the anthology.
the end is done.
the middle needs work as well.
le sigh.
i wish you were here, i wish that
you were with me right now, whisper
in my ear that it's all okay, that this loneliness
won't last, that i'm stronger than this, that i'm passionate,
that i can make it, that i have a reason for cahsing this dream,
that i'm something because, in this moment, i feel as if
i'm nothing. as if i've worked all my life, and it's come
to this, a summer of isolation with no one to keep me
warm at night, to protect me from the crashing waves,
from burning the bridges that will keep me alive, from
entertaining my own masochistic fantasties, the ones where
i imagine my tombstone, my burial, and i hate how weak
i am, that i need your comfort, but i guess that's love,
seeking solace in someone else, giving them your heart,
and begging them not to break it, opening up your soul,
carefully, caressing it like porcelain, and hoping that,
even in anger, they won't drop your prized possession,
leaving it to crash to the ground, to form a puzzle of
one million pieces, impossible to solve. i hate to say it,
but i think i love you, and i want you here, i
want you in my life, i want to feel you arms and
listen to those cheesy lines you have, i want you to
be my world, and i don't know how this will end, if
it's meant to last, if you deserve me, if i'm worthy
of having a guy like you in my life, but i need you,
right here, right now, and i'm willing to sacrifice it all
just to make this work.
okay, that wasn't a bad happy poem!
was it?
it was a good attempt. i think.
but it's still sad happy.
why do i have this pervading sense of melancholy?
mm, i should go to bed.
before i drive myself insane. again.
peace out & God bless.
lovelove, jess xx
Labels: dreams, freedom, haircut, high school musical, holidays, poetry, public transport, rambling, saturday night, summer, zac efron