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I’m not like these people here. My thoughts are not like their thoughts, my words are not like their words. I don’t understand them at all, and they don’t understand me.

When I speak to them, they just stare at me with their heads tilted and eyes squinted, like I’m some sort of oddly coloured bird in a big zoo cage. They don’t know if the bird is beautiful or not, just different than they other birds.

Most would pity the caged ones, for not having the freedoms of the blue sky, but in my mind, it’s far more sensible to pity the numberless masses of grey little chirpers perched on the electric wires.

I like the cage. It is shelter, it is food. The cage is where all the city stops to look at the oddly coloured bird, not to the highwires full of drab specks who feed off the scraps that fall beneath my feet.

They fly and dive and circle about as one. They are never their own bird, and will never fly their own way, not matter how big the sky. They’ll always fly with their flock, and I’ll never fly with one. But I still fly, and every day I fly my own way.

in the pink light of the morning, the sins of the black nights are revealed.

and you'll leave in that light, because you have a life of your own on the other side of town. maybe that's why you come here - so no one can find your car, so no one knows where you've gone to escape.

am i now your escape?

we dont have to talk about her, we pretend she doesn't exist. it's better that way, it's not her business anyway.

and we don't have to lie because no one would ever suspect us. we dont even exchange awkward glances. we share such lovely secrets

secrets that make me dream of you when you don't come, secrets that push your name out of my mouth with such a force that it cannot be muffled when you lie next to me.

you're a beautiful boy, i've always thought so.

and now that i've held your face, now that you've kissed my collarbone, now that we've looked one another over from head to toe... now you're a new kind of beautiful.

and i despise the pink lights of morning.

i long for the black nights and you in my bed.

I don't know what it was. A rabbit's chase, a fool's embrace. I dont think I'll never know what it was about you that made me lose myself in such a prolonged daydream fling that never should have been. It was a special kind of game we played, a fun little secret between friends. And now, there is someone else in your bed playing games. Someone is there who matters now. She is not nobody like I was, so easily set down, pushed aside and forgotten.

You say time got away. And it did. From us both. And now we are strangers. Little thumbnail photos on a computer screen and random comments on old posted photos. We are nothing more than ships passing in the night with all the lamps out. Because we can't bear to look at one another in such a light.

  I never quite understand the innate fear of Death that most people possess. Then again, I probably spend more time thinking about Death than most normal people (I’m very queer that way). To be afraid of dying is really quite illogical. When you think about it, Life is the scary part. Life brings all the hurt. Life is the pain and the worry and the struggle. The strife of each day is brought on by Life itself, not the looming inevitability of one’s passing from it. It makes more sense to be afraid of Life, doesn’t it? And so I am. And to me this is absolutely normal.

  Death seems to be a very peaceful place. A comfy bed you never have to leave. It seems to be the easiest thing in the world… The best part. The rest earned after surviving the hell of this Life. I think maybe Life is the hell we’ve all been sentenced to. Each hell as distinct and varied as the person condemned to it. Then, if you make it out, if you survive with enough dignity and grace and a little humility and contrition for your mistakes, you get to die. You get to finally rest in your own peace, a sweet rest without the weight of every single day on your shoulders and in your tortured mind. A place where money doesn’t matter nor do the burdens it pays for. No jobs to cringe at, no expectations to miss, no responsibility to anyone else other than yourself, no guilt, no shame, no shooting thoughts like lightening in your head. Just a quiet peace, the truest rest in Life.

My Beloved Members,

I've decided to start over... yes, at the end of February 2013. After posting my last entry of December 2012, I looked down and saw all of the photos and wonderful things I'd written for Christmas and New Year... and my birthday...and it overwhelmed me to the point of giving up. I decided that starting over was a better plan than playing catch up or playing "give up"!! I hope that you've all been following along on my instagram and tumblr, if not... they're always running with new photos and pieces. Keep an eye out for my Poshmark page announcements!! The clothing trade WILL BE!!

I have a new course set... no set course. I begin my "new" website with a fresh outlook, the outlook I wanted to share in the very beginning... the things that are seen by my eyes and written by my hand. No one will ever see the world like I do with my eyes, and no one will ever see the world the way that you see it, with yours. I embark on my own voyage, discovering myself along the way and not giving up on the little things that matter, like the happiness this website gave me when it first began.

Those who know me, know that, unfortunately, I can't promise consistency at this time (hahahaha). But I can promise honesty, and I can promise to respond to you and to promote my community of members and friends.

Peace and Love

Your Girl,

Jandi