usual: May. 18, 2002 (3:33 pm)

we talked about a house we'd live in when we grew up. used mahogny furniture, vinyl checkerboarded on the walls, and a small bed. and it would be impossible, we couldn't last six fucking minutes in the same bed.

on the couch (unworriedly, near the open door) he held my hand (flesh against flesh) like he normally does, he can't be still. and it places it down on his body. and he won't let go, and brings me closer, and when i kiss him he says i dont want to hurt you and i ask him what's the difference? and he says there's a mental boundary

it's two then, and i should go. and he says lay down with me, it will be better. and it's months of our common dreams and it's real. and then he kisses me. pulls away and i roll over away from this boy (who i used to control, and who is now holding me below him) annie, what? how can he not know, but he continues we can't do this anymore. how bright, anwsered his own queston. i smile at his father as i leave and then run for the first time in months. gasping for air through tears that sparadically fall.

i read baudrilliard that daniel lent me, which is truly making my head explode. loving paul once again feels like a simulacra, something modeled on nothing.

i don't feel like anyone cares. yesterday mike asked me why are you going though that hell with paul again

'alone has done some funny things to my friends.'

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