And I knew you meant it

I hope they burn you
And they seep into your skin.
May you know what I'm thinking
With every blink and stare.
See it in my eyes
And know your flaws.
Hear the music if you know
What's good for you,
You'll stare and let yourself tick.
Let fire burn the wall you've made
And know what I'm feeling.
It's not much right now,
No, it's not much.


I have a new weight loss idea. It's so genius and it's worked for many celebrities like Matthew Fox, Madonna, Gilligan and even Tom Hanks. It's called the "wrecked" diet and all you have to do is desert yourself on a tropical island for several months--even years, and you'll be in tip top shape. The way I figure it, when you're stranded on an island, your only options are fruit, fish and water. Lost cast members make it look easy. Many of them dropped hella weight by sweating continuously, running around the island, pulling, lifting, dragging, drinking water, eating fruit, boar and fish...perhaps the occassional leaf, or bug but shwatevs. Like all crash diets, there are health risks such as malnutrition and/or death, but beauty is pain and pain is beauty.I have two options: I hop a plane and it conveniently crashes onto a deserted island, or I go on a tiny tour boat in the tropics and get caught in a storm and wind up on an island. It's hard work to run away from wild boars, invisible spirits, and perhaps the occassional island native (if the island isn't really vacant) but see this all as an exercise opportunity, not constantly saving your life. After a few months, you'll be thin, muscular and tan. Granted, there may be no one to share your new hot body with (besides a volleyball), but at least you'll think you look good--and that's all that really matters. If there are others stranded with you--such as a professor, doctor, actress, or Fed Ex dude--they'll all be jealous and the fact that you've only had guava and passion fruit for weeks is worth it--even with the bad case of diarrhea.

I'm eighteen and in college--and that's exactly where I want to be right now. I've come to realize that I'm in a foul mood when I'm home. I think it's best when I come home every three weeks and stay for three days and go back. I have been stuck in the house everyday this week because my mom needs my car to get to work. I dont really mind because, in the end, I get an empty house (with my dad, mom and Mel working) and it's nice alone time. I want to go out though and do shit. My vacation is wasted away inside the confiments of this house, waking up late, watching TV, writing and eating. It's most def a vacation, but I still want to be able to drive around. I think if I were on campus, I could find something to do, ya know? and hang out with friends there...just something. My parents and Melany are basically used to living here without me at this point, and the fact that my shit is in the way and I need the car or something, fucks up their routine. I'm here, and after a while, I'm ready to go to my second home again. Andrew's right, I've made Hofstra a new home and I can't wait to go back home. I'm not sure if I want to live with the roommates again and deal with that bullshit, but I want to do what I want, when I want, without any sort of explanation. I'm a very independent person, and I'm growing at school. Though I have class and papers to write and hella boring books to read, I still feel less burdended than when I'm here. I love my family, but there's only so much of monotony I can take. Nothing seems to change when I come home. There is still the same drama involving the same people and the same issues that determine how we live. It's just annoying. Maybe going to school is just running away from it, but I don't mind being selfish like that because I'm starting to get Fran back and she needs to stay. Living on this island for fifteen years basically means the same bullshit all of the time and this bullshit began to pile up on me and I changed. It wasn't a good change though; it made me boring. I still say junior year was a turning point for me because mucho stuff happened: first job, grandma died, lost a "best friend" aka I grew up when I realized life wasn't a giggle. Too fast if you ask me. Responsibility came in excess and I was burdened. I can't really help that I became who I did in that short period of time. Senior year was just as burdening (if not more) and when the college opportunity came about, I knew to make the best of it. I moved in at Hofstra and I wasn't sad. I didn't cry and cling to my mommy. I unpacked and smiled at a new start--and find the Fran that was lost under rubbish. I do give some credit to Billy (it wasn't all Hofstra) for making me as happy as I was for the period of time I was at school. Oy. It was in the letters--I'm not going there again :). Basically I'm happy at school because it's a new start. College, I think, is so monumental because it gives anyone the opportunity to be what they want and it keeps you that way; you're conditioned to stay that way. I came back here and I find myself in the same rut as a few short months ago and I'm being buried under mounds of ridiculousness. I'm just angry at people, but mostly myself for letting it happen AGAIN. It could be lack of outside world, being in my room all of the time, but I'm pretty sure it's more. I just want to go back to school and lose Patchogue burdens again. Fuck it.

Ever listen to "See You Again" like five times in a row and not get sick of it? I have. Damn. It's so addicting. Fuck it.

I gotta pee. I should work out too and then shower and be a lazy fuck for the remainder of the day. I go to the doctor tomorrow to figure out how far along I am. I called to make an appointment and the nurse was asking me a series of questions about my symptoms...and continuously asked me if I was pregnant. I kept on telling her no and then she asked if I took a pregnancy test when the bleeding began. I told her no, and she was like, "Why not?!" So, this nurse got me paranoid. I have that gut feeling that tells me no (that fangled woman's intuition) but if I am, I dont think I'd freak too much. Too much. eek. Yeah, I might dehydrate from crying and I may break a few things, but it would be taken care of. I dont know what I'm saying...the only thing growing inside of me is one hell of a cyst (most likely). Fuck it.

I finished the first season of Lost...I'm itching for numero dos. Honestly, it's not even that amazing of a show (I've had better), but I still want to know what happens to the characters. And how much weight Hurley loses by season 3.

Peace negro. Have a loverly evening.