(no subject)

I am too much, I give too fast,
You were aching for subtlety,
I was avoiding the past,
You wanted me to be free.

I can wait, you know.
It's hard, but I can breathe, bleed words onto a page
And count the days until we grow together,
Like kindness and rage.


(I know, it rhymes. Bad, bad Jica. Free verse!)

I love my besty. . .

K. and I refer to each other, ironically, as "besty," because she's my best friend.

In reference to her sending me music that I left in the States in her car:


Me: [that cd is] stuck in my head like woah.

K: I feel your pain. All week my brain has been either "Raise the gun, take aim and shoot me, put the bullet through my head, consider us dead." Or "Craving for another killing, craving for another killing!"

K:: Good, your connection speed seems to be as fast as mine.

Me: if you weren't my besty I'd kiss you right now

K: Awwww.

Me: aren't you glad you're my besty?

K: I am.