things are breaking.

i could sleep for days, but here is the problem: it's monday and 3:47a.m. and i didn't go to work because i was snowed in at my boyfriend's house two hours away from my own, and i am not trying to complain but the snow drifts are six feet high, and "winter conditions exist" or, "the highways are closed." And all we do now is talk about the red warning on the tv or terrble gas milleage, i sometimes forget what real conversation is. Today is the one year anniversary of jason passing away, and there is a lump in my throat and i would throw up if i had any food in my stomach.

the city is swollen and so am i. put the pen to paper, you fucking idiot.

i just want to tell you that the weight of the world is heavy, and i understand that sometimes you have to carry it on your shoulders. thinking about cold puppies, missing kidneys, shaved heads, empty bottles, love lost and gained, cremation. i want you too know that sometimes standing beside you my hips feel enourmous and that when you call me beautiful i still have a hard time believing it, even when you kiss me. i like the way the words “i love you” sound coming out of my mouth when they are not just words on a screen, i want everything to be ok, i want you to be ok. i want to see you smile. it breaks my heart when i am this far away, and i can’t hug you when you are upset. it breaks my heart that i choke on words and tip toe around situations and disconnect myself from various important things because i can. i hate sitting in an empty cold warehouse and thinking about purolator shipments.muffler assemblies.cardboard boxes.packing tape.kilometers. i like to think about the future now, sometimes more than the past. head in the clouds,dreaming. lost in my own thoughts. a heater rattles on concrete floors, i look out the small garage door window, i think about leaving. what would make me happier, what i feel in my heart. but its way to early to tell. way to early to tell. way to early to know much of anything at all. i hear drunken words falling out of you and into my ears, and i try to seperate your liquid thoughts swimming through my mind.

imagine if your life was leading up to one big moment, and you never really fully took advantage of it in the way that you wanted to because you were too scared? isn’t that the funny thing about regret. you don’t know much about it until it is a landmine exploding in your chest.
it’s like,
how do i connect one moment to one moment to one moment, when i don’t even really know? i can’t remember how i spend my weeks, and i don’t remember what time i fell asleep, it all seems to be about counting, and numbers, and falling, and driving. and little sentences stitched together wtih seconds and string, and the word ‘sorry.’
i dream about how long it takes until all the skin falls of my hands, and it is dead-skin-dust in my carpet, and my hands are brand new again.
if i left and i came back, and i touched your small, skinny skeleton hand would it be like i was touching you for the first time? would it be something that we were both waiting for.
i picture myself - sloppy sentences, dry hands, pidgeon toed. in front of you, i don’t even have to say a word. (hope this really isn’t all one-sided after all)
you are the only person that i would truly miss in the gut-wrenching-topsy-turvy-keep-me-up-in-the-middle -of-the-night kind of way, that isn’t…connected to me by the blood RACIN’ through our veins.
i have no idea what any of this means, i haven’t left my bed yet today.
the word ‘sorry’

SOMETIMES, i feel like the smallest action i make turns into a tidal wave because everybody thinks that the words, “i am leaving” are going to fall out of my mouth.

his endangered words, on the god damned brink of extinction. they spill out of him and into me in a coffee shop. the barista breaks a flower pot, and he wraps his words in quotations, not giving himself the credit he deserves but i still think his words are beautiful, that he is beautiful. dressed in all black. a long black scarf around his thin neck, a knitted poncho hiding his tiny figure. i write in my brown notebook about five a.m. showers and falling in love. i make lists into paragraphs and try to give them meaning, gold glitter palm, collecting memories like unicorns. i will never be a writer. i drive across town and stuff two boxes of hairdye inside of my purse and he gets me olive eyeliner. we dye our hair, he blowdrys it for me after, very carefully. always gentle. i am sitting crosslegged in my mom’s closet and my dogs won’t stop barking. we call this our empire, we have created something new. a collaboration on a typewriter, we’re evolved beings and we are still documenting the changes. we’re a little bit stronger and a little bit thinner now. we always warn each other now, with her recycled words “you have no idea how o.k. its going to be” it’s o.k days ike this that we’ve been talking about. today we don’t need that reminder and that’s o.k. too.

i want to listen to the lovely feathers forever, want to teleport myself across the world, if i step to the left am i further or closer from where i am supposed to be? and what is this love? i ask strangers, friends, people i hardly know and hardly audible tones they say, “it was a cardboard sign and the letter u with an umlaut above it, and it just slapped me in the face out of nowhere.” he would like this black skirt with the built in suspenders or these fishnets, and i am confused because i don’t know where to go next, it’s like this “you will just know.” plain and simple, but what do i do next, escape the winter, think of the greyhound bus, missing heads and lunatics, the cold and what it does to us an our emotions, long johns in the warehouse, winter boots, flannel. the notebooks i will carry in my backpack. think of the highways, the roads, will it be safe? will you? is it worth it? i hope so. i draw hearts around your town on saskatchewan maps, around you. u. Ü

you need to date someone cooler.

Tee says:
savannah, the greatest thing about being around you is how you make a person feel like, at that particular point in time, that nothing else matters and there is nowhere either would rather be
Tee says:
you're a genuine person and you treat people like human beings and I've always thought that

beer breathe. your soft hand still rubbing my thigh. you - a constant thought tiptoeing around my mind. your spoken words - “i can’t believe how close i almost came to not meeting you.” my heart is racing and i’m trying to string toggether sentences, firing synapses, me and you breaking through the distance. nuerons colliding. quoting british pop, los campesinos! “absence makes the heart grow fonder, fonder makes the absence longer.” a hard goodbye, and they’re getting harder. but, i feel myself falling, and it’s like we’ve always known. a free for all. another summer’s closing, FALL. “it’s like the leaves are falling in love with the ground.” it’s no accident and neither is this, i’m falling in love with words all over again, trying to describe these feelings, but what do you say? there was a viking attack in a living room i will probably never step foot in again.

the weeks are long, wasted in a warehouse. the weekends: tangled up in you, rubbing noses and the grass stain on your knee from making out on my back lawn, the accidental hickey on your collar bone. i feel 16 all over again, stretching our limbes out on any soft surface we can find, scribbling sentences about it on scraps of paper, anything i can find

but i got this: there is the memory of your boney hands picking through piles of cd’s in the vinyl exchange, the look on your face, wide eyed by all the books in mcnally robinson and my heart is exploding on the perfect day. traffic is bad and in between i show you little bursts of my own craziness. yelling at oncoming traffic, you light a grape cigarello and the scent lingers in my car like the phantom feeling of your lips brushing mine…

i can’t wait to see you again.

the scent of your grape cigarello lingering like the phantom feeling of our lips brushing.

distance.

:)

remembering: your collar bones and my fingers tracing them, back and forth slowly. soaking you in, all of you. unsure of what is going to happen next, our mouths colliding after you say 3 numbers out loud, “two thirty seven, they aren’t supposed to go into room 237.” cuddled up in your shoulder crevice, ripped tights, your hand on my leg. trying not to worry about it to much, the advice of my freckled friend, “you will figure it out.. for now..fucking bask in it ok. remember every detail. put them away in your heart for when it’s hard.” i am trying, and it’s funny how things like this sneak up on you when you least suspect them, funny how you forget where your heart belongs until somebody tells you that you are worth it. that you are amazing, and you cry into their chest in a room that you have never been in, he is wiping away my tears asking me what is wrong, his eager eyes. it’s been so long since i have felt like a mattered like this. googling taurus and pisces compatibility, embarassed hush tones about liking the boy with curly red hair and awful sunglasses while sitting crosslegged, on a front lawn, green grass. heavy heart. putting off leaving, again. growing comfortable in your own skin, strangely attached to a string of people two hours away. the feeling i get in my stomach when i reach davidson, chainsmoking again, mix cd upon mix cd, a copy of chuck palaniuk’s choke for you in my bag. black underwear. a razor. some alphaghetti, again with the alphaghetti. coming to this city is always better than leaving. hating goodbyes, the dissapearance of the deflated panda bear on main street. the most beautiful liquor store i have ever been in, a train station and a sub par scarecrow hidden in the corner. memories of your green eyes in the sunlight first thing in the morning. my crusty eye make up, hiding my greasy hair under a touque in the summer, bad breath, toothpaste that tastes like fish, 560 calorie muffins warming on my dashboard, i offer one to your mom. you still think i am beautiful, and i am soaking this in. soaking you in. the look on your face when i had to leave. counting down the minutes until i am in your arms again, this is my embarassing confession.





//
settle baby, you are not the sun says:
ya. this situation is pretty much the only time this year i have been genuinely happy for somebody so take advantage of that so it's not wasted
that sounds kind of bad but i'm usually just not that stoked for people

I always feel like I am waiting for something to happen and never peforming the act, living for brief moments, counting down the seconds, drifting through meaningless tasks, my jobs. Waiting for a moment to breathe. Always waiting, always missing. And its eating me alive, waking up in the middle of the night and believing your arms around me and you are getting me ice water, but its all in my head and I jump out of bed at two am, mad that you left the tap running and I say it out loud but you are nowhere within ear shot, I am drinking london fogs and rescuing stray dogs and driving all over this city when I'd rather be driving towards you, listening to the ridiculious amount of michelle westre mix cd's. The truth is, I have no idea what I am doing right now, and it scares the fuck out of me.

when i think about this in the grand scheme of things, i kind of wanna die. have you ever been cryptic?

i am never on the internet anymore? biking all over the world, drinking powerade, trying to comphrehend why anybody would try so hard "the broken record effect." is what we say now, i don't know. ripped tights. vodka purchases, living off hot dogs, only hot dogs. kyle maclean rescues me at my time of need, two purse, two phones, orange pants. shopper's boy sighting: of fucking course, really right now. kyle throws my bike into the back of his truck. so i try to make him a pizza, we all know how that ends up. i will slip your freud, we say. slurpees, sunflower seeds, coconut records on little pink ipod speakers in the park, good company. catchin' sunbeams, smiling. biked to winston's two nights in a row, physical activity. the sidewalks are illuminated purple and i am drinking vex in an alley, so the most random people. fights in the gaybar alley, tears, city streets, soggy shoulders, blow up dolls. i give a 15 year old drunk a granola bar. i see someone get arrested, downtown is lively in the night, damp flannel, stolen slurpee cups, breaking heart (in a good way.) up and down the broadway bridge multiple times, sore back. cigarette break. cigarette break. cigarette break.

i bought a new car, it's a 2004 saturn ion, it is green. it looks like an apple.

perfect day, visiting my mom at work she feeds me mini egg cookies, i walk my life away in a predictable fashion: ipod in ears, inappropriate footwear, and a heavy heart. visiting old friends and i am given a pair of gold heart shaped earrings, slurpees and my skin is teaching the sun the proper way to change itself from a pasty shade of white, to a more appropiate shade of brown, criss crossing my back into an x from my bra straps, on the way home, i stop momentairily close my eyes and breathe deep to smell a freshly mowed lawn, i am caught in the very middle of this act by a middle aged woman and i blush and smile. i stop on a hill, half way home, grass imprints on my palms and legs, i smoke a cigarette and soak in the sunshine and meet up with megan to spend the last bit of money i do have on cheese pizza, and have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. bonus! heel sized blisters and gut feelings, good gut feelings. i am excited for everything that is about to begin.

waiting for my dad to come and pick me up to get new spark plugs for my car, it is only running on three cylinders. and then i am going to the beach for the afternoon while byron fixes it, i hope at least. (also hoping the sun will fix the dick on my back, uh.) because i am planning a trip to moose jaw tonight, and if i don't get to make it there i think that my heart will actually probably end up breaking, i miss everyone's face's so fucking much. pretty much everyone that matters or could potentially matter is far away and distance is the death of me. this is the longest we have gone without seeing each other in so long. this is just getting ridiculious, i have an anxious feeling in my stomach.

other than that, i got a job and i start on monday. well, bye.

p.s.

myles - sometimes i don't want to make new friends, sometimes i just miss my old friends. says:
*CUZ I AINT GOT NO J.O.B.
*it doesnt matter t hat my mom doesnt work though
*cause shes been workin
*43 YEARS
*SINCE SHE WAS IN THE WOMB
*she was hammerin' and chizzlin' the railway out of my grandmas vagina
*oh and i kind of told her in a grumpy incoherant fashion
*that i was going to murder her by lighting her on fire
*hahaha