When I finally saw you

you were smoking a joint

and you said to me,

“hi.

you look like a yuppie.”

And I said

“let’s get coffee.”

So you pushed back my tongue and

swung your gauges at me

and put out your joint for

“the legal drug (like a yuppie)”

—it was the best I could do.

You shoved me and said

“what do you do now?”

I swung my gauges at you

and said

“I like parentheses.”

So you ordered it

black, but gave me the

cream, because that’s

how it had to be

since I almost have a degree

(in parentheses.)

(I swapped it for soy.)

I knew you wanted me to

dye my hair with whiskey and

sing/play/live/consume songs of

23,568 cigarettes ago.

You knew I wanted you go

EAT ORGANIC and

put on my flats and

read books about us

23,568 cigarettes ago.

So you argued in tongues of “The Prince” and

I argued in tongues of “The Little Prince”

and we spoke in broken song lyrics and battled tattoos.

We bit our lips until they bled,

and you spilled coffee on my boots.

When I finally saw you leave,

you were smoking a joint,

and you said to me

“i always knew you’d become a yuppie.”

(me too.)

I took the BART home and

You walked back to—

(where is it you live?)

and we deleted each other’s numbers
from our phones.

It's a new year, now. It's hard to remember all that happened over a year. Swirlings and spinnings and weavings of sun soaked days sweating numbers all over my classroom floor and nights that melt together with the addition of music.
It's been a year. Bad things and good things have happened, and I regret none of it. I don't like some of it, but regretting anything fixes nothing.
I'm happy, and I see my future beginning. I can finally, finally see a glimpse of real life. I now know, for the first time, what it's to see through Alice's small door in the room where the pool of tears begins and be unable to fit. I'm reaching for the potion now, slowly climbing up the table, but it takes time.
I miss you. Whoever you are, I miss you. I've been so gone, so, so gone this past year finding out who I am and where I'm really supposed to me. Balancing time is hard, and it's hard for me to do. I have an awful lot of time to balance between people, given that it seems as though I have no friends.
But this year has been brilliant. Despite the loss, the gain has well taken over for the first time in my life. It's been a year of love and a year of performances, Wicked and Rent (again) and Lady Gaga, all within months. And I couldn't believe how much I loved Lady Gaga's concert. But that's another tale, I'm sure.
A year of me, of you, of her and it and dreams and dances and fears and lies. A year of experiments and sorrow, of mystery. It's been wonderfully daring, and now I'm ready.
I feel like I've seen no one from high school, though really that's a lie.
I see it, finally, like a rusty scrap of metal in the sun. A shard of my future sits there, sharp, with a metallic tang, the sun glinting off oddly because it's half obscured by years of rust.
A year of engagements and schooling and hopefully
hopefully
friends again. But a year of love and perfection, a year of finally
finding something and living it through instead of procrastinating my life. I'm 20, now, and with it I've found someone perfect for me.
20 feels no different than 19
but that's wrong. I'm 20, now, and I'm
living.
Happy new year, everyone.
Send me your thoughts on blown daisy seeds and
your wishes on floating paper lilies.

It WILL be okay.

I'm nervous.

She already sort of has someone, which makes me doubly nervous.

My butterflies are increasing.

It's approaching much too slowly
and much too quickly.

I hope she likes me.

I really like dancing.

We're all growing up, we're all getting in trouble, we're all doing stuff we regret.
Things are changing, new things are happening, we're all in so deep...
I think I like it.

I have no idea who I am.
Who am I?

Help...
I feel like I'm falling.

I am in so much trouble...

...I think I like it.

I was kissed.

Oh, God...

And when I laid beside you for the first time I told you, "I feel you in my heart and I don't even know you."

I was nineteen, calling.

I felt you in my life before I ever thought to, feel the need to lay down beside you and tell you,
"I feel you in my heart, and I don't even know you."

I was nineteen, calling.

(and now we're saying bye.)

...even if it's bits and pieces of Tegan and Sara, it still fits and does justice to the song. 
This is about two different people
in two different ways.

Oh, fuck.