So apparently this happened (Teenage Eris’ Hobbit Slashfics)

subject: 2002 – hobbitslash!
eventtime: 2003-07-10 16:23:00
itemid: 170
Tags: lord of the rings, prose, fanfiction, merry/pippin, slash

We begin our tale on a clear and crisp spring morning in the Shire. Birds sang melodically just outside of Brandyhall and crickets ceased their chirping. Meriadoc Brandybuck rolled over and snorted in his sleep. A daring lone fly buzzed past the yawning mouth of Peregrin Took. The sun rose slowly, as though apprehensive of the events that were to transpire.

Lord of the Rings: Return of the King flashback – December 2003/January 2004

Our story begins with my purchase of The Two Towers on DVD.

Icon: way too easily amused
subject: *turns into Strong Bad* The Two Towers special D v D
eventtime: 2003-11-30 13:37:00
itemid: 2966
There are a shitload of deleted scenes, just like with Fellowship, which I wish they hadn’t cut out and am glad were put back in. I understand that a person doesn’t want to sit in a movie theater for four hours, so yeah, the movie was trimmed a bit.And my favorite scene they cut out? Merry and Pippin (nach) after the battle at Isengard finding some poor soul’s secret stash of pipeweed…the best in South Farthing! I cannot believe this is just tobacco, the way those hobbits’ faces lit up and they made all kinds of excuses of why they shouldn’t tell anybody about their find. And an ent like walks over and sees all this smoke pouring out of this dilapidated house along with giggling. Merry and Pippin are total stoners. lol. I heart them muchly.

I ask if it’s December 17th yet, which is the premiere of Return of the King. Then I talk about stalking my ex-boyfriend JP, or something.

Then I have a crisis of faith about being an English major. (Duh.)

I write out some fantasies of murdering my roommate and share them with the Internet.

The night I picked a fight with those three cigarette smoker girls after the buses stop running happens. (I even remembered that without reading the entry!) I recall I crawled into The Stoner’s bed and tried to hoard his body heat and radiator. The radiator always bugged him because it was right next to his mattress.

HAHA, OMG! Then the incident happened – one I was recalling recently – when The Stoner put a fake parking sticker on his car, it got towed, I didn’t have a car, so we took the bus together to pay the fine and then go get it back from the impound lot, at night, with no idea how to get there.

I don’t understand why I’m perfectly calm and cool while other people’s worlds are falling apart, and I freak out/break down when stupid little shit happens to me. Hmm…It was kind of funny, but [The Stoner] really is hurting. *sigh*

Dominic Monaghan and Orlando Bloom “quite randomly kiss.” (I suspect it was to make fun of all the RPS.)


Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers flashback – December 2002/January 2003

Let’s see what turns up…
Icon: aw man
subject: oh, I can die now
eventtime: 2002-12-21 11:01:00
itemid: 2035

By the way, (good) highlights of the week:

-I applied to college
-The Mall Show didn’t suck
-Winterfest didn’t suck
-Andrea (!!!) admitting that she too thinks Frodo and Sam are soooo doing it
-[Joel] in drag

-[Joel] in drag again??? =)
[me]: Re:
heh heh heh

I was just thinking about The Hobbit, was reading about LOTR, and then remembered to dig this up…

The night I (technically) lost my virginity was the night Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring premiered!

But the film premiered in my hometown and in wide release on Christmas Day. I didn’t write about actually seeing the film until the day after Christmas.

subject: Frodo and Samwise are doin’ it, I swear on me mother’s goat
eventtime: 2001-12-26 00:39:00
itemid: 902
Music: We Wish You A Merry Christmas……gweeeeehee…

Me and [JP] saw “Lord of the Rings” tonight and it was jeece and a half thrown into a blender with Moses, Jachariah, and Abigail Williams. I also found some slash to celebrate. Yeehaw.

Yeeeeeeea, thats exactly what Juan leaned over and said to me about 90 times during the damn movie… heh.
What, about Sam and Frodo? lol

[nathan]: Ohhhhhhhhhh Yeahhhhhhhhh.
Friend: “The movie was fast paced. They couldn’t fit Tom Bobbindale in.. If he did, it’d be.. ‘Meesa Tom Bobbindale! Meesa no like-a dat Sauron!”.. Hehehehehehhehehehhehehehe. ^^
[me]: Re: Ohhhhhhhhhh Yeahhhhhhhhh.
Sauron’s a bitch.

The Walk of Pride

I remember reading, I think, in my university’s newspaper this year, about this female college student who started her own taxi service.

The taxi service was exclusive to young female students. Its intent? To make The Walk of Shame less shameful.

{Edit: Here’s an article about it! And her tongue-in-cheek commercial, that got her in a bit of trouble.}

Continue reading

Most Embarrassing Fanfiction-Related Move Ever and Other College Things (September 5, 2011)

Aw, fuck. It’s one year later and I’m back at the start. You would find it utterly pathetic and lame, WordPress, but I find it poignant, or something.

Last LJ entry, for realz, WordPress. I swear.

(All names changed, once again, except a couple of great schools, because who the fuck would remember I went there? And despite the fact the whole Internet could easily realize which ones the other two are. I’ve already spent this strange Livejournal -> WordPress experiment covering my ass, though.)

September 5, 2011

Mood:  cranky

Most Embarrassing Fanfiction-Related Move Ever and Other College Things

Giving it to a professor to read.

No, seriously! I was in this class, and I’m gonna name it by name here, even though libel, blahblah, legal yadda.

Grub St Inc is this great nonprofit organization in Boston, Massachusetts, and you can pay reasonably small amounts to take writing workshops there with real professional instructors, with classmates who vary in age and life experience.

I made the mistake of taking a writing workshop there, because it was six weeks of embarrassment, but I had to get my shit together. Despite being the black sheep of the workshop group, I kinda wished I had done it earlier, because the year before, I had paid out the nose to take a class at Emerson College. But on the whole, I’m gonna name them because both Emerson and Grub St are kickass. But Emerson, being a college, and one of the most well-known colleges in the United States, is mad expensive. It’s just a fact.

So this was during my four years of shlumping around not knowing what to do with my life.

Anyway, I told them I wrote fanfiction, and of course it was very amusing and confusing to everybody, and then when it came to write some fiction, I wrote something adapted from An Eternity in Cheese Country. 

Well I gave it to the professor, and she was like, “Hey this is actually pretty funny. With revisions (a lot of revision), it could be really good.”

I ended up using that piece as a jumping off point for the treatment I sent that college in New York for my application, but here I am, [upstate].

Okay since I don’t have anything negative to say about them either, I’ll say it’s [the college in New York City] I didn’t enroll in. There was another, more famous school I DIDN’T get in (in Boston; you can guess which one), but here I am [upstate] and it could be good if I actually get up off my ass and start focusing on my next move.

But then again, one of my professors said last week that for this fall semester, we should just focus on our classes and not worry about next summer. That’s the opposite of what the folks in Career Services said, who were like, “GO FIND JOBS. GOOOOOOO.”

I have a feeling I’m going to aimlessly drift my whole life, really, but I base that on my drifting through high school, drifting through undergrad, and drifting through the four years after undergrad. That’s 12 aimless years.

I mean, high school was all targeted towards getting into undergrad, but undergrad wasn’t targeted towards anything. I just sort of did what I needed to do to get the credits to get a degree. I decided early on that since I didn’t know what to make my focus, I would take classes in as many subjects as possible. I was required to do the minimum English Lit classes (because I was English Lit), so I got some literature in there. I was required to take weird-ass honors classes ([My undergraduate university] had a really unfocused honors program) so I made as many of them as I could film classes, and then I decided to do theater and film. I also took general education requirements in the social sciences. Even my biology class was human-being-related, because it was biological anthropology. My astronomy class was mainly, “Flirt with/play footsy with or avoid/glare at [The Stoner] for an entire semester, in a big lecture hall where our primary focus was playing around with the device that took attendance.”

Literature, theater, film, and creative writing. Those were the things I spent my time on. I was at one of the most esteemed research universities in New England (despite its students’ constant drinking, [my undergraduate university] really is admired for its science departments) and I had made myself a curriculum like I was at a small liberal arts college. Oh, and I fled for an entire year to go to England.

The aimless four years of my life while I lived at my parents’ house twiddling my thumbs was really just a vacation from real life. But I’m not in real life now, either. I’m in school. It’s graduate school, but it’s school nonetheless. It just seems very strange, because you have the same things: parties, drinking, drama, feuds, jealousy, me going batshit crazy, other people scratching their heads about it, and lots of wine. I think I already said drinking, though. And there is a lot of beer.

Where is the school part of this school experience?

One of my classmates said something interesting, though. She, and several others in my program, is continuing straight out of undergrad. And she’s also continuing straight out of an undergraduate program here at the same university. Oh, dear. One of our professors asked how many of us felt like this was “just year five,” and a few raised their hands.

She said she thought it was a little disappointing we’re in classes with undergrads (but I’m only in two classes with undergrads, and it will only be one if I drop one of them), because she feels like even being one/two years older (nevermind my four/five years older, or one of our other classmate’s eight/nine years older), she’s more mature. She may be correct. Someone pointed out that we’ve chosen to be here, whereas the undergraduates are required. Having a degree is something you just do now, much like how high school diplomas used to be. You need it to find work.

But we’ve all come back, or continued on. Why have we done that? Why did my classmate do it? Well, she said, she feels less like it’s year five, and more like it’s “a reality check.” She said she was impressed our instructors tell it like it is: the entertainment industry is difficult, really difficult, and you have to have focus and quite a lot of drive (and skill), to make it.

I came here because I want skills I can actually put on a resume. Of course, then, our instructor said a resume is meaningless in the entertainment industry. The interview is what’s more important, and the sort of thing said on the golf course or at brunch is even more important than that. But luckily our other instructor saved him (we were being spoken to by three of the instructors we’ll have this semester all at once for our first session of that class): she said we need the skills to back up what we’re saying. I’m hoping this is the case. I’m hoping I’ll feel more confident next May when I’ve learned a bit more.

Someone warned me a while ago, when I was looking at schools, that [my university] has the disadvantage of being only a one year masters program. You don’t get to really learn as much as you would like. But at the same time, I wasn’t looking for a mastery of these skills, because I didn’t intend to become a filmmaker, and certainly not an independent filmmaker. I think it will be okay for me if I even make it out of Massachusetts and into the entertainment industry. I know that sounds naive and really, REALLY vague, but my ambition isn’t…how do I put it? I’m not all that ambitious. Part of the reason I’m so insecure here is because I’ve met a few very ambitious people who want to accomplish a lot of things. They want to tell their stories, and they want to do it well. One classmate hopes to someday be so successful he can merchandise his creation.

Another person I know, over in journalism (prepare to hear way too much about him on here), wants to start his own business. Or rather, he already has one, sort of, but he wants to actually make a profit. That’s his goal.

My goal is to be happy for once.

Maybe I should just do what that one prof said: concentrate on the work for this semester, and then next spring, really start to panic. We have an internship fair coming up, and I would scramble to prepare for it, but it’s during one of our class times. What the hell? Will I get to go? Would I have even wanted to?

(Well, YES, I want an internship for next summer, and I want one in production! Even if I end up fetching coffee, I want to be near the real meat of what’s going on.)

(That metaphor came out weird.)

Point is…what was the point? Oh. My fanfiction. I didn’t even send a writing sample here, which indicates to me that they weren’t really keen on getting the best and brightest for our program. The journalism students had to send their writing, and how! This is a journalism school first and foremost, and although this is the 64th year for the TV/Radio/Film students, we take a bit of a backseat.


Labor Day. I don’t think I’ve done any work. Which is the point, but I spent the last couple days chilling out, relaxing, sleeping, shopping. I even went to CHURCH! And I’m an agnostic! (My Christian friends think I’m an agnostic, not an atheist.) And I went to the New York State Fair! I thought, “Okay, I’ll spend Labor Day doing work. It’ll be funny. But it’s 1 o’clock and I haven’t started yet. One thing I have to do is watch a movie and write an essay about it. I decided it should be “Inception,” because everyone in my screenwriting class has seen it except me.

AUGH. Livejournal. What have you done to me? Conditioning.

Tags: bloggy

I is a college graduate (May 27, 2007)

I’m surprised, with all the old crap I posted, that this isn’t on here.


Icon: Lulu serious

subject: I is a college graduate

eventtime: 2007-05-27 01:47:00

itemid: 5675

Mood: drained

Today was crazy. Couldn’t sleep and got up ass early to write only 4 pages. Printed it out anyway. Packed everything, showered, and headed out. Put the 4 pages of my final paper ever in my professor’s box, and headed on down to commencement. Hung around feeling pretty awkward since I didn’t know anybody.

Kept seeing people I recognized, though. Also, to my mortification, ended up next to [The Stoner], my boyfriend from freshman year. This made me quite happy later though when we finally spoke and said goodbye. He’s in an honor society, for crying out loud. Looking through my program at all the accomplishments people I know have made makes me feel like a ‘tard. But then again, there was a professor sitting next to me who, after I awkwardly stood up for the [honors college] and honors announcements, congratulated me. I said, “Eh it’s just cum laude,” and he was like (much like [my uncle] tonight on the phone), “That’s quite an accomplishment.”

Saw people I knew who gave me the cold shoulder like [Isaac] and of course [The Musician], who was doing security, nach. I couldn’t believe it. He looks so handsome. Blar. As for [Isaac], I was impressed seeing him come down from the commencement band. I was like, “Whoah.” Anyway he didn’t see me, or if he did, walked away.

Ya know who else looks good? [Mikail Stephanos]! Another blast from the past from freshman year. He finally fuckin graduated. I was so happy. I hollered out. I had to. He turned to look and gave me a smile. Or at least he smiled for some reason. There was plenty to smile about today.

But not me. I’m way too confused and weirded out by this whole thing. Not to mention lonely, since I’ve lost my senior friends, or have or had friends who are juniors, graduated, or super seniors. The comradery in the crowd made my heart ache. At least there was last year’s end-of-the-year stuff. Like I’ve said before, when we were all leaving England, it felt like probably what most of these people here were feeling.

Maybe I’m wrong. I dunno. I just feel like it’s all very unreal. I was mortified I sat near [The Stoner] but glad in a way because it brings me full circle, to the very beginning of all this. He said, “These four years went by fast,” and he took off his sunglasses to rub his eyes or look for someone or something, and they were so very sharp blue, and I remembered why I’m a sucker for blue eyes. My grandmother on the other hand said, “Does he still have that stupid looking beard?”

SO. The ceremony. “Dullsville,” as [my uncle] says. Also very hot, but not too hot that it was unbearable. BUT I have a sunburn on my face where you can see the lines from my hat and my sunglasses! The only good thing about wearing a gown and a hat is that the rest of me isn’t burned at all.

People are rude too! Everybody left before the ceremony was even entirely over! It was a chaotic milling around of people. I ran into [Tom Paine] which made me happy too cuz he asked me about my film. Which is crap but I’m glad he asked anyway. I saw people from a distance but me and the family stole a bunch of food from the Humanities and Fine Arts tent and then got the heck out of there. They had delicious cookies and salmon sandwiches.

So we packed up the rest of my stuff, took some snapshots, and took off for [home]. I can’t believe it. I got so anxious and worked up so I unpacked EVERYTHING. Tomorrow morning I re-pack for my trip with [Navy Guy], which should be even crazier!

I’m so exhausted. And sad. And I want to go back to school!!! It’s the only thing I know. I want to go to that school in Waltham. But now [my grandmother] is cynical about it. She’s like, “Hrmm, don’t jump into anything.” How can I? I can’t apply ’til this autumn or attend until the following September.

One thing I do know, is that although me and [Cindy]’s film projects were pretty crappy, I really enjoy filmmaking, especially the editing. I’d be wicked good at it, and to not apply to that art school would be a shame.

But I really shouldn’t think about it. Make money! Get experience! SLEEP 8 HOURS A NIGHT


Spoke to [my uncle] about [my younger uncle]. He was scared to death and flew out to Massachusetts back when it happened to watch over him. I feel so bad I wasn’t there. Maybe everyone’s right and I would have just freaked out. I guess my grandparents, [Lyn], and [my older uncle] all helped [him] out, and he had some migraines but those went away, and the doctors said he was lucky there wasn’t any brain damage. I’m glad he’s okay. Auuugh.

Everything is so unreal.

I find myself constantly quoting movies. I did an asshole thing the other day when talking to [The Teacher]. Back junior year of highschool, I said this is like a movie, and [J.P.] corrected me that life isn’t a movie or a tv show, it’s real, with real people and real emotions. [The Teacher] commented like our situation was a movie, and I said a similar thing as JP did, that this isn’t a movie, that life isn’t anything like that. My film professor pointed out that a lot of our assumptions about life or what life should be is from the many movies we’ve seen. We assume things should have a beginning, middle, and end, when that’s not at all the case. We start to confuse the fiction with reality, in a very subtle, back-of-the-mind sort of way.

But this isn’t like a movie. I dunno. It’s just….

All too fast.

booo to repeating history (April 9, 2008)

So I do one of those dumb things on Facebook saying, “Leave one word about how you met me.”

The Musician leaves the word “Police.”

I’m really stupid, so I message him.

“I probably shouldn’t remember it was pizza with [Ted] and I was sitting in your chair wondering who on Earth can drink so many Diet Cokes, when I turned around to find you wondering who on Earth was sitting at your desk”

I suppose The Musician would roll his eyes and go back to his life wondering why I take everything so seriously. I can still picture “Ted’s” room, but mostly because all our dorm rooms looked the same back then, and the account of our meeting is actually evoked by the several times I’ve written it down and re-read it. One such retelling was around the time I met up with The Musician the summer of 2008 and there was Drama! It was right before we tried to have sex with my vulvodynia, my disastrous visit to “Lea’s” apartment (except for the sushi, that was pretty good), when I ended up rebounding with The Teacher and then falling in love with The Mechanic. Yup. That same spring. Isn’t spring magical? /sarcasm.

Here’s also a great example of my insanity: the extent to which this is bitterly written four years later.

Icon: Yuffie serious
subject: booo to repeating history
eventtime: 2008-04-09 23:57:00
itemid: 6461
Mood: lame
Music: lol Placebo?
Tags: relationships, [college], life

Saturday’s gonna suck. No way is he thinking the same thing. I mean…sure I’m cute and he’s a fucking ferret. But [our college] is weird. [Our college] is full of girls who will inexplicably fuck ferrety men. (Sadly, myself included.) I mean, look what happened sophomore year. What the flying fuck. Like…I don’t know how he managed it. Five girls in four months. Okay, not exactly the most accomplished of players, but you gotta go, “Damn. Ferret-boy is a player.”

I remember when I first met him. I was visiting my friend [Ted], who had moved to [Pine] Hall and was talking about how much his roommate sucked but we’d have pizza and watch a movie so it’d be alright. ‘Cause I would be there and hopefully his roommate wouldn’t. Not a chance. It was a weeknight. Anyway, we go across the hall to hang out with these girls who lived there, and I ask them about [Ted]’s mysterious roommate. “Oh no!” they say. “That fucking prick! We hate that guy.” So I laugh and laugh and we watch Eddie Izzard.

So I’m sitting in his chair and [Ted] and I are thinking about ordering food and we were watching TV or something. It was 2004, so there probably wasn’t anything good on. And I hear footsteps and turn around and this guy with a backpack and jacket on comes into the room and puts his bag down or whatever, and I’m like, “Oh shit I’m in your chair, dude,” and he’s like, “No it’s okay, who the fuck is this?” and [Ted]’s like, “Oh that’s [Eris]. This is my dipshit roommate.” And I’m like, “Hi, ohmyfuckinggod you look like Adam Busch.” And he’s like, “Hi ohmyfuckinggod [Ted] has attractive friends.”

So anyway I’m like, “Whatthefuckever, [Ted] has attractive friends.” But no, that’s not it, because on the surface I was sayin, “What a dipshit tool motherfucker, those girls were right, because he’s a tool, and he like radiates toolness.” But my heart, instead, that traitor, goes thumpathumpathumpa and down south is like, “HELLO,” because HE HAS FUCKING PIERCING BLUE EYES. And I am one big cliche.

Because this kid, no you don’t understand, he is a fucking ferret, I swear to Christ. He is. So I like move to [Ted]’s bed, and [Ted] sits at his desk, and this dude sits at his own desk and starts inhaling Diet Coke like it’s going out of style, and doing homework or something. Bear in mind, I am wanting his ass while he simultaneously radiates assholishness, because I am dumb.

He totally showcases how much of an asshole he is when he goes to the wrong door (stupid [Pine]/[Johnson Hall]) with ALL OUR MONEY so that we have the pizza guy calling us like, “Um excuse me, I have your pizza, give me money,” and [Ted]’s roommate is at the other door like, “I’m gonna hit on the girl doing security la la la.” Me and [Ted] are pissed when he returns because we ended up having to use credit after all. Lame.

So we all watch cartoons from the 1980s and Red Vs. Blue, for some reason, and a grand time is had by all, and then I return to my harpy roommate and go on with the rest of my semester.

Except then that winter, around ye olde Christmastime, I find [Ted]’s roommate online and start talking with him over messages. And then over instant messenger. And then flirting. And then wanting to meet. Oh, no.

So we meet, and sparks fly! What the fuck? There’s this inescapable, unexplainable chemistry between us, that results in an adulterous affair, calzone sex, the best kiss ever ever ever, something to do with a paper flower, Valentine’s Day 2005 sucking, more infidelity, my friend from [my hometown] letting me in [Pine] Hall at 3 in the morning, everyone waking up, the girl down the hall promising to call the cops on me, internet stalking, therapy bills, a broken umbrella, coitus interruptus, fake Polish, Battlestar Galactica, the ruining of Dr. Seuss, psychologists, and huge penises. This all ends up with me leaving the country to avoid the situation. Or, ya know, getting accepted into a prestigious university. Either way, I was gone.

When I returned in 2006, we met again and reconciled, but then, it was another blistery winter (in early 2007), except this time I was actually single, when we met up again and had the second best kiss ever. {Some more} stalking later, we were out of each others’ lives, once again swearing to never see each other again for fear of bringing down the Apocalypse upon all of [Our College].

Wow. To see it all retold again is to…Definitely see why this is a terrible idea. But the thing is, I really couldn’t give two shits about what happens next week. All I know is I still have a commitment to AmeriCorps through July, a kick-ass vacation after that, and a long life ahead which includes finding a steady paycheck first and foremost. Does whether or not I’m getting laid really matter now? It seems like it was easier to lose focus at [my college], ironically enough, because I was alone and feeling the icy grip of Well Who The Fuck Cares If You Get An English Degree upon me. Now I suppose acting like a dipshit is against one of the House Rules, since I live with my parents, and with any luck [my uncle] can get me to see sense if I act like a drama queen and QQ about this kid.

Goddamn, I need to cancel my travel plans ASAP and never touch this kid with a twenty-mile-foot pole.

Then again, it’s hard to describe the good times. Oh. Right. Because they tend to be rated NC-17.

i’m leaving this place forever in may anyway (February 1, 2007)

subject: i’m leaving this place forever in may anyway
eventtime: 2007-02-01 21:04:00
itemid: 5273

What do I want?

To be used for sex? To be loved? Why did I break up with [The Drop-Out]? Is it because I don’t want a boyfriend? Do I want a boyfriend? Am I sick of sex? Am I sick of love? Am I sick of myself? Am I sick of being responsible for another person?What do I want? To use others? To be left alone? To see what it’s like to be alone? To see what it’s like to love being alone? To see what it’s like to not get attached? To flirt and nothing more? To talk and glance and raise a glass and toast and love the air? To forget skin? To touch the stars? To dream? To not feel guilt anymore? To not feel shame? To feel self-respect? To stop worrying? To stop the ulcers? To stop time? To learn?To stop being dependent.To depend on myself.

To realize myself is all I have, really, to depend on.

And I can be “high maintenance” all I want.

‘Cuz I can roll my eyes at my flip-flopping self and hug myself and say, “Shh, calm down. It’s only a fruit roll-up.”

What fruit roll-ups have to do with anything, I don’t know.

I want no more attachments. I want to be on my own. I want my body back. I’m sick of skin. I have enough vivid memories of skin to fill film reels. To fill artificial realities. To type the word and give a man a hard-on. Skin. Skin. Meaninglessness. Detatchment. Escape. Escapism. Skin. Loneliness. Ache. Passion. Forgetting. Blankness. Sensation. Pain. Pleasure. Skin. Skin. Skin.

I want to look into a pair of eyes and see respect. I want to see someone seeing me as an upright, not uptight, not loose either, in between, hair loose, clicking heels, and a straight back, woman. A woman. Not a girl. Someone who can be by herself. Someone who can smile and raise a glass to a group. To come over, sit on a backwards chair, and say, “Hello.” Someone who can touch skin and stop and say, “That’s enough. I don’t need you.” Or to entwine fingers and lay a head on the shoulder and say, “This is enough. Just what I need.” Or to look into eyes and see what’s being said. And listening, and hearing, and understanding. And knowing what to say. And that it’s not sweat, blood, tears, or any of that. It’s not forgetting. It’s not losing. It’s not escaping. It’s just sitting here in reality and looking.

It’s stopping second-guessing. It’s living.

And to live…right now…and stop this worrying…

I need to be my own lover/sister/mother/daughter/fuck-buddy/girlfriend/angel/temptress/goddess and student.

Or something.

Not to say “skin” is just empty. It is also. Love. Connection. Friendship. Comfort. Blanketing. Real. Momentarily forever. Valued. Satisfied. Enveloping. Surrounding. Electrifying. Affectionate. Skin.