i'm dappled and drowsy and ready for sleep -- simon and garfunkel
03 November 2001 at 11:52 pm

wow. i feel incredibly nauseous. maybe it's from spinning around for 15 minutes on the beach.

but sometimes, that's just what you gots to do. why am i all ebonicsed this week?

so, i told karen my Deep Dark Secret on the streets of danish town Solvang (pea soup, suzy) and she started crying and told me i could come live with her in sacramento if i wanted to.

and i might. that's the best offer i've gotten. she offered for me to pack up my bags today and she'll take me home.

because i can't handle this. i can't do school anymore. i mean, not only is it too much but i'm too immature and apathetic for it. on the surface, i know i should be studying and getting a's, but deep down i don't give a shit and i just want to curl up into a ball and fade away.

or maybe i'll go to africa for 6 months like what'shername...shit...what is her name...christine? anne? tristan's sister. gaaaaah! this will drive me crazy. stephanie? i'm not even close. anyway.

we saw woven again, dad and karen and i. they loved it.

when i came back, sarah and i walked on the beach and she said, "could you imagine if you were in a relationship with chris? he'd be going through hell." which is true. which is why it's bad for me to be around people who don't know the history and who haven't been there. for people who haven't seen Happy morgan, it's hard to understand i'm not really this way. it's hard enough to reach out to people you care about who care about you. it's hard enough when you're surrounded with love and support. so what do you do when you're not? when you're reaching towards a murky abyss that you're not sure exists in the first place? what then?

"i have no need for friendship; friendship causes pain. it's laughter and it's nothing i disdain. i am a rock; i am an island. don't talk of love. well, i've not heard the words bvefore. it's leaping in my memory. i won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died; if i'd never loved i never would have cried. i am a rock; i am an island. i have my books and my poetry to protect me. i am shielded in my armor. hiding in my room, safe within my womb, i touch no one and no one touches me. i am a rock; i am an island. and a rock feels no pain. and an island never cries." s&g, you get it.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.