not a dream, just thoughts, well writing, maybe

i read back through my journal today
just the hand-written one i carry in my purse
it goes back quite far
because

A) i was alternating between two of them
[depending on what i was writing]

and

B) i utilize the computer
[and to a lesser degree a bigger book, not reviewed]

but

it was interesting to me to see
the kind of stream of consciousness statements
over and over
and the questions i ask myself
the most common:
what the FUCK are you doing?

but a few things that struck me most:

...i'm still, maybe, screwing up--
but, dear god, it makes me so happy just to see him.
when i got back to [my room] and looked at myself in the mirror--
i was the most beautiful woman in the world.
well, not really, but, sorta...

...how evil-going-to-hell am i?
is this all going to work out?
if whatever happens is okay with me then it's going to be okay, right?...

...i'm running
and i'm turning to salt
i'm spinning
and i'm
how do you want it to end?
standing on the balcony looking at the ravens:
i love you too ernest
could you write it as a book of endings?...

...is that true? no.
is that a lie? no.
so why did you say it?
because it is what you believe and you're so scared...

treasure
trauma
pleasure
drama
kumquat
opossum

and today
as i was leaving the mall
a guy
smoking a cigarette
drinking a cup of coffee
pushing a grocery cart
dropped his cigarette trying to get my attention
as i walked past in earphones

it's not over until the fat lady sings
he chortles

well
i had asked for a sign