horse: Aug. 21, 2002 (7:07 pm)

we passed by hudson trail outfitters and i turned my head (of corse). my mom asked what's wrong?

it's been a year, mom, since he said it was cool we could hang out. i wanted to sit with him wrapped up in a car blanket having deep conversations. and i was so good at concealing our dates and my tears. and he just always wanted to touch me. and conversing was easy, but we were just flirting. he (like you) doesn't respect my ideas. he (like you) dosn't respect me at all. and now i just can't care anymore. i can't keep beating a dead horse. he isn't alive in the same way i want to be alive.

but i don't have friends anymore. i spent all my time on a dead horse. i love all these people that i meet. i love all these people.

he's going to wake up one day. in the house that smells of his success. and wonder what happened to his house in the woods. his little bed with me in the city. he's going to be a professional; i know it. just please. don't. do what you want.

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