doctorgirl

Spend more time looking into nooks and sliding yourself into crannies. Think harder about hearing the air in your ears when sound isn't waving it. Imagine each point of contact between your soles and the carpeted floor.

Do you remember standing outside when it was snowing? It was the biggest, pillowiest, most voluptuous lack

I wonder if I've overstayed my welcome a little. I must be an after-hours customer by now. Thinking about checking out my items...

The sky was mostly long streaks of silver and gold tonight. You gave me a tiny flower that you found on your walk. I looked into your shiny, optimistic face and took it with me into a long, outlandish daydream —

A trust and a truth and a spark that soothes
A girl who looked more like the Sun than a girl

Banana cream hair and peach pastry cheeks
Fruitful vines of polka dots and plaid spots

She offers her heart to everyone
Until everyone has a heart for her

— and I feel like I could tell you anything in the world. I feel like I could admit I'm slowly falling for you, even though you don't feel the same, and everything would be just fine. I don't care if it doesn't go anywhere. I'll just be happy to see you again.

Current Mood: high

Will you ever have any idea how much I think about you?

Why did I say that?
Everyone says wrong once in a while but I say wronger and more often
Like, how is it possible to have friendly intent but say rude things regularly?

Neurodevilry

Evildoer Disorder

Bad Syndrome

The best I can hope for is to be an attractive, entertaining fool. I can put on a push-up bra and a broad lipsticked smile, I can hold a ready nod, and I can speak honestly and look on as no one believes me. You'll laugh like always, which is good. If you prefer me how you misinterpret me, I earnestly hope you never see my truth, because I just want you to like me. I don't care if you really know me or not as long as you like me. How do I even tell how you feel?

I'm ready to bind up my voice for good. Or maybe I could just turn my vocal cords upside down, or my mouth inside out, and then sing and shout insidely, where it's impossible to be impolite. It's dim, dingy, damp, dirty, and sturdy inside, like a cave, and my voice wouldn't vibrate anything. My organs would remain motionless like always. What a relief to not move anything or anyone with my awkward words. Verbal scourge

Current Mood: guilty

she blows me away a little bit. she's about as tall as me but slightly older, and she has dimple piercings that bookend her mischievous smile. she moves like she always knows where to step. her eyes easily meet the solid matter that i nervously phase through. i'm intimidated and invigorated by her permanence. she told me i'm pretty...

i half-bit my lip as i smiled real big, and i turned away quick as my lungs went twisted, and i tried to mutter to myself about it but i think my interjection came out loud, i think, but i think it's hard to tell how loud my voice is these days, so i'm hoping and praying she didn't hear me say..............................
"..............................oh my god...!!!!!!!!"

Current Mood: weird

My head is so big. I'm so tall. I literally never asked for this...

I don't remember asking for grand long hands and legs like these. I'd like to slip down a little 'cause up here it's pastel clouds very bright and I'm greatly visible, and the sunshine is really white, like too much, and I can't even make out how many eyes are on the other side of the beam

Every night I go to sleep in my tiny apartment alone but I always — every time and always — I always feel someone else here even though I know nobody is. I wake halfway through every night and sometimes I frantically leap out of bed to start tidying for a hallucinated guest. And then my frenzy shrivels as the empty room fades into my senses

But right now I'm seeing the opaque light needle through the gaps in my blinds after another completely sleepless night and I'm awake but deluded like dreaming because I still feel someone here. Well … now that I think of it, I usually feel eyes on my back … but it's a comforting companionship, not a source or product of paranoia. I feel lucky; I've always felt lucky.

Current Mood: awake

I went to visit you at the hospital again. It was late and dark and quiet, and your desperate attempts at post-stroke spoken communication crumbled mid-air before me. I felt like you wanted to cry out for help and all that was stopping you was your inability to shape your lips into a scream.

This is sort of like the movies I think
You used to like a lot of movies. You know a lot about them
What do you like now? Will you ever like anything again?

Are you sharing your personhood? Are you spreading your soul? Because someone I love, just as much as I love you, was sitting where you once sat and wearing what you once wore, and when he looked at me I was startled and frightened to see you in his youthful face. Shy and smart and self-doubting. I see your past in him and his future in you. It made my muscles feel like stone and I wanted to vomit

Conversation is like throwing rocks at each other because nothing works or sticks but a lot of it stings and the words bounce down to the bottom of my brand-new downward spiral with lots of factory fresh space to fill up. Last night you and I walked back and forth and I thought we were the same height, but the more I unfortunately talk, the taller you get, or maybe I'm just sinking into the floor but either way I have to look up at you instead of across the air, and it's a strange distance because of how it widens and narrows by the minute and the constant changing makes me feel seasick, up and down and in and out sight spinning because I don't exist to myself, I exist subjectively only, I exist relative to you and how you feel about me. Remember when you had some kind of romantic feeling for me and I pretended not to know? What was that about? Was it my fault? Does the feeling remain? Why don't you fall in love with somebody your own size?

Current Mood: listless

Something terrible happened

You were overweight but now you're way under.
You were overthought but now your thoughts are little diced up pieces
or maybe they're more of a blurry mush. That's the problem,
you can't express anything at all so I can't know

What does paralysis feel like? Even partial?
Do you speak clearly in your mind even though your lips stumble and falter?
I held your hand for a long time even though maybe that was a little taboo. I felt like I had to hold some part of you.
I drive around and around and pass the hospital over and over, imagining you alone, barely moving in that white room
I drive for hours and I think about you for hours more
I think about you and I think about you
I miss your voice from before it became a slurred whisper.
I regret every time I ever ended a conversation
I wish I could hold both sides of your face and look all the way into your eyes and reattach your neurons with my mind

I'm so afraid of how afraid you must be in your body —
in the half of you that can't move, I mean...

You looked at me and I looked at you.
I puffed up and performed forty-five minutes of hope and then I left.

I like touching walls I've never touched before and I like standing strangely in familiar places. I like stepping up into chairs and on top of cabinets. I'll hold onto the ceiling.

I wish I could walk outside at night and touch all the differently shaped shadows, but I guess it isn't safe

The briefest deja vu. Get a clue

into a memory that wasn't very sticky

and will easily peel off the wall again

What am I providing here?

It's giving ... endlessly fruitless

False face found just fine ne'er farce

Show and tell so exciting empty hands

Fallible dribbling lips listening to your attractive accent

Flamey when I'm honest and ashy when I'm quiet

What are you looking at anyway?

I mean, what do you think?

I would love to ask her out and receive her rejection. It would be a dramatic little rush, racy change of pace.

I can't decide if I want friends or if I want to be alone. I like to see, but being seen is so overwhelming.

Fermented face with fizzy skin furled over bubbling, burst-bordering middle

on the verge of hyperromance and hot curiosity.

Boil a manic hole in my hand when I hold back. OUCH...

Pretend a pretty perspect and don't purse your lips.

Don't turn your head too fast and don't show too few teeth.

I think oscillating isolation makes it easier for me to fall for everybody's facade. I'm absent and present for just long enough. I get a shallow, inviting taste of what people are like, and then after retreating, I get desperate and wistful. Sometimes it feels impersonal, like an anthropological crush, like alien intrigue. But it's only alien because I struggle to be down-to-earth.

Current Mood: confused

Well, maybe the roller coaster is clanging back up, but sometimes it's hard to tell. Joy and anxiety are functionally the same and I reach rangily for either. I only hope that the way back down goes straight into the ground. Crash and don't tunnel, please?

Maybe I'll finally splay for you, display gems and gore and gushing adoration, and you won't say a word because you don't know how. You never say words ever. Actually, I would love for you to be the one all splayed. I can't imagine what I'd find but I bet I'd like it. Organically open your mouth even if it looks like bile. I'll catch it in a cup.

Cold, bright blue sky inside bone stored neatly, clean distilled without clouds, behind glass door without knob. It used to open but not anymore. Now I just pathetically put my hands on the pane. There's still a little bit of her breath condensed on the other side. It won't evaporate as long as I keep looking at it, which I always will. But I'm so tired of only seeing her when I sleep

I had beet juice for the first time today. The taste reminded me of when I would eat grass as a dumbass kid.

Current Mood: uncomfortable

I really like your elbows. The way they bend is gentle. Thinking of your sweetly slanted stance reminds me that I care about you, but I'm still trying to keep you at a distance because I don't actually swing that way, regardless of your sweetness and your dearness and my wishness, I can't swing that way. So now I look at your elbows and your spine from the corner of my eye, and imagine hugging you again, tighter and surer this time, but I can't get my hopes up.

My oxygen enclosure is getting more claustrophobic. I don't want to reach out but maybe I should while there's still an opening...

I love you?

I'm grateful for your casual dress and casual speech.
You're normal, I think,
just like you thought of me
before I sunk further in.

But thanks for smiling my way anyway.
I would likely kiss you if I was straight.

Current Mood: embarrassed

I actually think that big piano walls are closing in on me, like, headphones hold my head so squeezy tightly. My head held and my breath held, help. I can't move. Really, I really can't move. If I was grayer with greater posture I could make an interesting statue. A little lumpy and pimply but maybe in a way appealing to museum goers. Anyway, please help me because I can't move and my veins petrify a bit more each day. May I make it through, mayhap?

I'm opener to the future now that I have my doctoral degree! I find it's still a little cold and still, though...

14

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1