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BY Sam

11/01 Direct Link
I think about you more often than you will ever know. I wonder what you are doing right now, because I can't ask. There is so much more than an ocean between us. The pain isn't as intense now. It's a dull ache that I sometimes forget exists at all. But then I hear your voice in the wind or see your smile on the face of a stranger, and I remember.
La voix de la mer est seduisante. Elle ne s'arrete jamais. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul.

Do you remember?
I promise to never forget.
11/02 Direct Link
I think if I were religious I would want to be Buddhist. I like the idea of becoming something else. Reincarnation. To see the world in a hundred thousand different ways. I would like to be a tiny little golden fish in a pond, swimming between water plants and pensive turtles. I wonder what it would be like to look up at the sky through the murkiness of water, to see the clouds and the stars through a thin, wavering veil. I wonder if I would feel trapped, or if I would even know the difference between this and that.
11/03 Direct Link
I wonder what she was thinking. Was it worth it, to be the downfall of us all? And why did he get off so easy, a weak man that so quickly fell to temptation? Did she hang her head in shame when she reached for that fig leaf? No, I like to imagine a coy smile, because she tricked us all. With a toss of her head and a seductive gaze, she changed us, brought us pain and sorrow. But also joy. She was the one who saw these things, hers for the taking. That apple just looked too delicious.
11/04 Direct Link
I am not strong enough. This I know. I carry it with me; it is a burden that I cannot be relieved of. I am a broken ankle, a clouded eye, a twisted smile. I am my weakness, I am my strength. Neither is greater than the other. I am the point where a scale is perfectly balanced, suspended in space and time. I am the cradle, the grave, the single tear. My laughter is the thunder that makes men fall, my smile is the sun on a raven's back. I am nothing. I am everything. He loves me (not).
11/05 Direct Link
I like the taste of pommegranate and strawberries. I wish I was prettier. I am a pisces. A dreamer. I wish I could create something beautiful. I like the taste of cigarette smoke, but I don't smoke because I am too afraid. I kiss him after he smokes because then he tastes like everything that I want but am too afraid to let myself have. I think people say this to sound mysterious, but I love the rain. I really do. I don't like scary movies. Life is scary enough without adding more fear. I am tired of being afraid.
11/06 Direct Link
We want so badly to be touched. We reach out with our words, our hearts, and hope that a thousand miles away, a stranger will love us. We yearn for that tender embrace, but we can't pick up the phone and tell that one person that they mean more than life to us. We can't look into their eyes and lay our souls bare. So we wait, longing for the moment when that person sees us for who we really are. We hope that in the brush of our words and fingertips they will know us completely, and accept us.
11/07 Direct Link

She is wearing a peach-colored dress and thinks of nothing more than the richness of silk and sun on her skin as she sits beside the pond. She dips her toes into the cool embrace of the murky water. Sliding forward, she reaches with her leg into the depths of the pond, delighting in the sensation of water against skin. A goldfish brushes against her ankle, no more than a brief flash. She stretches further, waiting to feel the mud between her toes, but is surprised by the water's depth. With barely a ripple, the water engulfs her.

11/08 Direct Link

I was ashamed of the desperation I heard in my voice, suddenly so unfamiliar to me. I clung to you with a weakness that I didn’t know I possessed, begging you not to leave me.

"Promise me," you whispered, your voice intense with an anguish that left my heart blistered.

I promise. Two words that were torn out of my throat and tossed on the ground between us, tattered. Broken. I didn’t recognize at the time what I heard in those two little words. It was the sound of a soul being ripped apart. It was the sound of hopelessness.

11/09 Direct Link
Today my favorite flowers are poppies and my favorite color is grey. Know the feeling of smoothing a flower petal between finger and thumb? I feel myself fly apart, thousands of pieces soaring past the speed of light towards the stars. To hang suspended between a billion points of light, how would that feel? Maybe if I could allow myself to let go I would know but I hold on so tightly to the feeling of you which is as much a part of me as the thoughts that you can't see and that I never verbalize. I can't.
11/10 Direct Link
Today I met someone new, and for the first time in months my thoughts have not been occupied by you (or should I say, by you alone. Of course you are still there). Such a brief encounter, but now I can't stop thinking about him. I wonder what he thought about me, if he was smiling at me because he was feeling the same things as I was. Once again, I find myself falling for someone who barely speaks English. Maybe I'm afraid to be with someone who can completely understand me. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for accents.
11/11 Direct Link
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a hidden garden. She was surrounded by beautiful flowers that bloomed all year round. For company she had the red and white fish that shared their pond with a big green turle. The turtle crawled out of the pond every morning to talk to the girl so she wouldn't be lonely. As the days passed, the girl grew to be a young woman, and the turle found himself falling in love with her. But he was afraid to tell her, so he stayed in his watery home, looking up...
11/12 Direct Link
...at the beautiful girl from through a veil of pond weeds. One morning, as the turle watched with a heavy heart, he saw one, two, and then three drops of water fall into the pond, and knew from the salty taste that the girl was crying. As the turle swallowed her tears, he knew the depths of the girl's loneliness and felt sad for contributing to her unhappiness. But he found himself unable to overcome his own unhappiness, and so he waited in the pond as the days passed by. And both were unhappy, waiting for their lives to change.
11/13 Direct Link

Another promise lies on the floor between us, broken. It's a pitiful thing now, once filled with the hope of young love. We stare across it, having reached yet another impasse. It's your move, so take the chance if you want to stay in the game. Will you try to mend it, or will you leave the mess for someone else to clean up? Will you sift it through your fingers, hoping to find something of value? Or will you leave it the way you left me: as something sad and crushed on the floor, that was useless all along?

11/14 Direct Link
I want to cause hearts to break. I want to create chaos out of order, and reveal the ugliness in beautiful things. I want to bring out the pain which can be such a precious thing. I want to chase cars and dive in the shallow end. I want to jump off of a cliff to find out what it feels like to fly, but also to know what it feels like to fall. I'm afraid of heights, but I want to soar. I want to feel everything. I want to scream and tear my hair out. For you.
11/15 Direct Link

I danced in my room alone today. I jumped up and down and laughed at myself in the mirror. I felt lighter than I have in ages. I want to kiss a stranger. I feel like I have mood swings but that's probably normal. You people reading this, what do you think about me? When you read this, who do you picture in your mind? I wish I had some way of knowing, but I don't want to put my e-mail on here...too many psychos online. Maybe I will anyway. I want to live dangerously. Maybe I will.

11/16 Direct Link
If you are reading this, send me a message. Say, "Hello, my name is so-and-so. What do you think about when you look at the stars?" Tell me who you think I am. Ask me anything. I will either tell the truth or tell a lie. I haven't decided yet. Ask me what my favorite taste is, my favorite time of day. Ask me why, who, what, when, where, how. Ask me why brown is prettier than pink, why a grey sky is as majestic as a blue one. Ask me why I love tulips. Just ask me.
11/17 Direct Link
In all honesty I don't know what might have been.

Imagine standing in total darkness, with the sense of a vast space before you. Your footsteps echo off of stone as you walk forward, and suddenly there is a blinding flood of light. Before you is a perfectly round pit so deep that a stone droppes in makes no sound when it hits the bottom. Above you is the night sky, encapsulated by stone and gold.

Had you taken that one final step, you might have fallen into infinite blackness. You might have fallen straight up, among the stars, to...
11/18 Direct Link

…look down on the world from above. But in a flash of light you saw what was before you, and stepped back from the edge just in time. Now you will never know what might have been, because you are surrounded only by what is.

We are underground, brushing by each other on the subway. She will never know that, had he not touched her coat as she walked by, she would have walked one centimeter further to the right, and that when she slipped, instead of being steadied by him, she would have toppled headfirst into an oncoming train.

11/19 Direct Link
I feel like I'm changing. So often I find myself on the verge of tears and I don't know why. I feel every fiber of my being, yearning toward something unknown. And I wait, day after day, to find out what I am becoming. I want my world to be shaken up, I want to do something stupid. I am dancing inside, and no one else can see it. I can't decide whether to laugh at mself or give in to the tears and wait for someone to comfort me. I'm tired of waiting. What choice do I have, really?
11/20 Direct Link

She lived high above the Earth, floating in slow, steady circles like all the other stars, a part of a dance with no music. She watched, longing to reach out to the stars and planets around her. But she hung, moving and immovable, in the furthest reaches of space. The blackness surrounded her, she longed to break free.
He passed her every once in a while, that sad little star with a wistful smile. He longed only to brush against her for a single second. He watched her float by , and wondered if she ever noticed him...

11/21 Direct Link
A meteorite hurtled through space, heedless of the damage it inflicted. With a single stroke of Fate's brush, it grazed his side, knocking him out of orbit as he hung in the sky, dreaming about her. He flew through nothingness, crashing into her with more force than he had ever dreamed was possible.
And for a single moment, before the nothingness consumed them, they were one.

The moon watched with a sigh, wishing that she, too, could forget the meaning of loneliness. She waited, wishing for the shooting star that would illuminate the darkness around her. Smiling sadly. Still alone.
11/22 Direct Link
This time next week, I will be home again. I will eat real food, and take two showers a day without wearing shower shoes. I will walk my dog and smile at the neighbors, who will ask me how I am liking school. I will see my friends, the ones I have known for as long as I can remember. The ones who need no explanation, because they were there when everything went down. I will say "y'all" and no one will notice, because they all say it even more than I do. I will be a Southern girl again.
11/23 Direct Link
A girl I hated in high school once compared her own mediocre drawing to the brilliant works of Leonardo da Vinci. The boy that sat next to me told me to tell my friend to shut up; he liked to tease me because he knew how annoyed I was by her posturing. Babbling away, so desperate to impress a bunch of people who really didn't give a damn. I wonder if she had even seen da Vinci's intricate, almost perfect renditions of flesh, sinew, and bone. I hated her desperation.


How pretentious of me, to judge so quickly. To dismiss.
11/24 Direct Link
Today, my favorite colors are cream, peach, and gold. My favorite flowers are peonies. The smell I long for is the scent of the Earth after one hundred days of drought, spicy and barren. The feeling that I desire? That of tripping and slamming through the air, only to be caught at the last possible moment by a pair of strong arms. The taste I hunger for is the taste of fresh ginger, a seductive bite. My ears listen for the sound of your voice, straining to hear over the chatter of my mind. My eyes search for yours.
11/25 Direct Link
The ground beneath her feet is spongy, green. It breathes, gently. In and out. In and out. She can feel the dampness seeping into her soles, into her soul. It is not cold. It coats her skin, her hair, which curls gently out in the humidity. 
The thin, sheer nightgown is no protection. Neither are the flimsy silk slippers. But she no longer needs to be saved. Within, there is strength. She stands, breathing with the Earth. In and out. In and out. The trees surround her. In and out. She falls to the forest floor. In and out.
11/26 Direct Link
The pencil in my hand is hard and cold and can't help me express what I'm trying to say to you because you won"t hear it, you can"t, no matter how I verbalize the delicate thoughts that are too sensitive to be exposed to the light of day, and you never were a good listener, just a good talker, and I could have listened to your voice for a hundred years but then one day you fell silent and disappeared and I've been looking and looking but I can't find you so maybe we were never meant to
11/27 Direct Link
She made a cake for him. One of the snowy white ones, with a layer of fluffy coconut on the outside, and a cherry in the middle. She set it on the counter, and jumped to hear the key turn in the door. Home already! She took off the apron and quickly smoothed her hair. You looked like a stranger, changed from your time away. But she was so happy to see you! She jumped into your arms and you hugged her, awkwardly. A few moments of uncomfortable silence.

Well...

She brought in the cake. You had never liked coconut.
11/28 Direct Link
In ten years, I will be an astronaut. I will float in space and say a polite hello to the stars. I will smile at black holes and ask them how their day is going.
In ten years, I will be a doctor. I will save a baby's life and ease a woman's suffering. I will give a toddler a lollipop.
In ten years, I will be an artist. I will have a painting in every museum in the world.
In ten years, I will be a mother. I will be the center of someone's universe.
I will be. 
11/29 Direct Link
Hit by a bus. Poisoned with a green apple. Stabbed in the heart. Choked on a chicken bone. Thrown through a plate glass window. Drank mercury. Lead poisoning. Heart attack. Bear attack. Salmonella from an undercooked pork chop. Slipped on a child's toy and fell down the stairs. Faulty parachute. Hit by lightning. Couldn't make it back to the surface. Murdered by a hit man in a case of mistaken identity. Pushed. Jumped. Swallowed bleach. Tried to do the right thing. Protected the kids. Shot by the kids. Fell asleep and didn't wake up again. 
11/30 Direct Link
I don't know what to say. My lips silently form the words that you want to hear, the ghost of a laugh. An orange is waxy, a perfect sphere. Why are swans considered beautiful? They're mean bitches...Give me a duck, a dove, a robin. I don't know what I'm saying. Are you asking me these questions? I don't have the answers you're looking for; I don't see myself this way. You are searching, I am waiting for you to find yourself, hoping that at the end of your hunt you will be looking at me. The month is over.