Pathetic

I'm afraid of my roommates. It's weird. It's not like I'm afraid of them hitting me or something . . . . but I get sad and hurt and stuff, and I'm afraid that it's too easy for them to really screw me up like that. I don't know.

So I've been all weepy and crying for a day and a half now, and it's ridiculous. It's like I'm retreating into my cave and licking my wounds. Fun.

Random poetry flinging

Koan

the answer is in the sound of your breath when no one is listening
the color behind your eyelids when you dream
your pulse, the counterpoint between your fingertips and your heel
the taste of your own mouth
the sweetness of your own breath

the question is

.