deciding again again

write it in ink, yea.

i'm thinking i'm gonna write a book one day. i don't think i want anyone to understand it. i think it's gonna be about my dreams or the lack of them. i don't think anyone will understand it.
we're gonna lie on top of a big grassy hill with nothing surrounding us but stars. [sometimes i think the stars are cameras and when we think we are looking at them, they are actually looking at us, and capturing our every move.] we talk about how the stars are acutally cameras. we talk about how there are speakers in the tree's leaves and they are whispering a kajillion things out to us. so many things we can't even think of one. [but the whispers are kind of like dreams, we'll remember them eventually.] we talk about how when you connect this star to these ones it makes a pretty shape. sometimes you say certain things and i can't look at you in the face. but when i don't look at you in the face and at the ground instead i still see your eyes. [they are with me everywhere.] it's times like these when we're together that all i can think about is sleeping. not because you're boring [you are far from that.] but because i'm curious to see what kind of dreams we can conjure up when we sleep with our heads next to each other. the possibilities are endless? i'd like to think so. it's also times like these when our dreams and our words and our thoughts create an expanse so vast above us that we are stuck inside but not claustrophic.

oh, and i like her.

deciding again

it's never ending;

yep.

i've decided that even if you don't know who you are, i know who you are. and that's what makes us special. at night i dream that we're walking down the road and all we see are dotted yellow lines going straight straight straight in front of us and we follow them. i only see two at a time so i never know where i'm going; i don't know how much you see. maybe you see four or five? it doesn't really matter. but once we walk mile by mile we get to a tree with no leaves. its branches stretch up high into the sky [everything is high up in the air with us, in so many ways it makes sense.] so we climb the tree. barefoot. but everytime we get to the end of a branch it's a new ground. so we keep climbing [i'm not very good at climbing trees, i have scratches all up my knees, and you save me from falling three times.] i'm determined to find a branch that ends in the clouds. one day i will tell you when i find it and we'll go there. and this, it's never ending. it is a recurring dream. and we all know what they say about recurring dreams.

and i know this will come true eventually cause it all happens in a dream. this morning when i saw you and i walked by and you winked at me and all i could let out was a tiny little smile; i already knew it was going to happen. we all know; we're just not smart enough to remember. [which reminds me, of the fact, that no matter how much we sleep, we'll never see our life our in full. we'll never see our death. wich reminds me, of the fact, that when i die, i hope i know i'm going to die, how much better would that be?] but i'm not talking about death because we are so much in the beginning, do me a favor, and dream about it; and write it down.

deciding

dear diary?

i've decided that i want to be in the sahara desert. not in, exactly. but floating high up in the sky in a hot air balloon so the sand doesnt burn our toes. this is with you, of course. everything is with you. the running away to an enchanted forest [us being there, of course, is what makes it enchanting.] the building of the tree house that will never fall down -- no matter how windy it gets. the discovery of all the fears we never knew we had. the scaling up mountains just to tear up our lungs from screaming out our secrets to the clouds. [we can almost touch them, that's how high we are. and our secrets float right through them, making their way to the ground like rain.] the drawers full of notes that we write to each other even though we're together all the time. the sunburns the mosquito bites the scabs that turn to scars on our skin. the sahara desert. everything is with you. i've decided that's what i want to do.
and on another note: everything is a dream that came true. you know you can't deny it. even when you think you are sleeping in nothing other than darkness, your future is playing out its course inside your head. everytime i see you it's another deja vous. [what a strange sensation that is.] and you don't even know who you are.

fun days!

Dear Diary;

yesterday my bff erin and i had a really fun camera adventure! we went to a graveyard, grassy green hills, a railroad track, and a junk yard where there was a huge empty tour bus AND a boat! it was so fun and we almost got HIT by the train. but i saved the day, of course.
anyways,
seeing how i said it was a camera adventure, heres some pictures to prove it.
i'll ttyl diary,

Love,
nicole.

rememberme&;

dear Newmarket; i'm sick of being pretty.

my car was parked across the street
and i walked around in circles
big circles around the town.
cause the sky was so damn blue i couldn't help but stare
and the night was so damn warm i could have sworn
that the air,
was from somewhere nice like California
somewhere far like California.

and as i walked i could feel in my chest,
the speed of my breathing
getting faster
and it hurt.

people stared.

it's like my eyes are screaming;
come and pick me up.
it's like my lips are screaming;
come and pick me up.
it's like my face is screaming;
come and pick me up.

but they arent.

i close the curtain to the place behind my eyes
where i reside
and my feet, they stumble off the curb.
and the cars pass so damn fast i swear i could feel them
pushing me back.
this is me in Newmarket,
nothing close to California,
and as i walk back to my car my heart slows down,