seventeen eighty nine: Jan. 08, 2002 (7:04 pm)

he is not poetry. not some beautiful tortured soul. his eyes are not piercing. and i'm afraid, really afraid, that the closer i come to him the more i'm going to loose this romantic part of me and just become reason.

i don't even know why i really think that way. our relationship is not controlled by reason to say the least. Despite all that i have read and heard i don't regard love as being romantic, pain and loss are romantic. my writing is failing me. look at these simple sentences. maybe i'm just blaming him for my own failure. how i wish i were brilliant. or maybe that my perception of what brilliance is was different. i want those triple eighties on my psats. it doesn't validate me as a person but somehow not having it unvalidates me. i'm in the fucking ninty-sixth percentile for college bound juniors even tough i'm a sophmore but i still want more. i hate being good and not being the best. it really is true, paul. i have this weird sort of insecure arogance. that sounds like self loathing vanity but really i live that way.

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