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♥ precious.
la bella vita;

Cara

loves: black and white photography. poetry. vintage stores. thunderstorms. good ambience. fairytales. disneyworld. black kohl and fuschia lipstick. red and purple skittles. turquoise beads. icing but not cakes. might-have-beens. the dandy warhols. within temptation. automatic loveletter. mediaeval baebes. troy. interview with a vampire. the oc. making 11:11 wishes. purple glitter. mermaids. my-little-ponies. magic.

expertise: melodramaticks. eyeliner. laughing. goodbyes. hanging in there.

♥ music on, world off.
shh.

soundtrack to life.

♥ scream(?).
live.

♥ past .
instant time travel

December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010

♥ adieu .
set them free

AMANDA
ANDRE
ASH
DEB
ELEMM
07IP04!
08IP04!
JOSH
KAT
LISA
QIU
RENJEAN


♥ credits .
thankyouverymuch

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Thursday, July 23, 2009
hello, old friend. 4:53 AM


"...This is superficial.

But it's just- we want to escape.

In our heads; we're already gone."

- Lisa

---


diary excerpt  #137: 


It's a little bit funny and a little bit sad that under different borders, in a different time, in different clothes- maybe; maybe...we could have all been rockstars and movie gods and youth-quaking beatnik children.


In this parallel, unfettered universe,


We'd live forever in candid black and white photographs scattered around the musty linoleum of our Lower East Side, industrial bohemian-type apartment that we'd barely manage to cough up the rent for every month.

We'd live on Campbell's and black coffee and strawberry jello and words and too little sleep because we'd be up all night, every night, talking about the great glorious beckoning thing that is the Future. A Future not defined by social conventions or familial expectations or the cold concrete hand of a cold concrete city. A Future that would be uncertain and flickering and probably one hell of a ride--  but it'd be beautiful because that uncertain, wavering nightmare would be ours.


We'd celebrate every holiday on the calendar.

We'd hang from the parapets dangling handtowels at passersby screaming "WE ARE JACK'S BROKEN HEART"

We'd sleep in the bathtubs and cook five course microwave dinners in the bedrooms.

We'd sketch miniature Antarcticas on the window panes and doodle faces on all the light sockets and not one inch of wall would be bare because they'd be completely covered, completely filled with poetry.


...We'd be poor and lost and catastrophic and deeply in debt and burning out by the second---


but we'd be alive. Well and truly alive.





...and in the end; that's all that really counts, isn't it?