I'm poking at the bruise that appeared below my knee after you kicked me last night. I watch the skin's color change beneath the pressure of my fingers, and wince. The scratches down my cheek don't sting anymore. I wouldn't even know that they were there, for sure, but mocking me, the mirror won't let them go away. It giggles and reminds me that love just fades away...it fades away and only violent remains.



You are pansexual.


What is your sexual orientation?
brought to you by Quizilla


Not much to talk about today. I think my next issue of CC's going to be themed "unsent letters." I know it's cliched and over-used, but you know what? At this point, I'd rather have a cliched zine finished and ready to be read than spend another year trying to pull together enough writing to my whacked-out standards. Besides, I spend so much time writing letters to people in my head when they're not with me that it'd be relatively easy to get out.

Going to 'Frisco tomorrow. Don't know what I'll be doing, yet. I think I'm visiting my grandparents, but if Davy calls tonight (or reads! Hey doll!) we might try to meet up on Clement.