exist: Jun. 17, 2002 (11:11 pm)

he didn't write back; normally (normally) i can read before postcards before they're sent--but i'm never sure. what did he mean? and tomorrow (when i see him for the first time since he whispered good-night and i cried as soon as he left) should i face him awkwadly or take long alternate routes? i wanted so badly to cogitize tht that self-loating isn't sexy and i wanted to be fine. content. not empty, but not sad. not sad. but i feel so fucking awful. back from the land of the half dead. bt i know it exists. and sometimes i think it exists here.

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