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18

dear god,

riddle me this:
what is the purpose of stress?

love,
taylor

17

dear god.

there's very little in this world more difficult than waiting, i think. unless that's waiting scared.

love
taylor

16

dear god.

how do you say you're worried without someone being angry? because it's worried like i don't want to try and make your decisions for you, but i do want you to be happy.

happier.

can i help?

t

14

dear god.

it's 1:36 in the morning and i am just starting this post. that technically means that i have to go to school tomorrow, but luckily i have around twenty hours of sleep between me and that jolly adventure.

i have just come from watching a trilingual movie, from receiving drunken professions of love, from offering opinions on matters that shake the world. it's easier to think at night. your head feels fuzzy and heavier so you slouch lower and lower against the headboard and deeper and deeper under the covers until it's uncomfortable to type. the words come easier (and sometimes douchier).

the world is nice when it's quiet like this. you feel like you're the only one who exists. all the bad things are gone and you just listen to the creaking of your house, the humming of your computer, the rising and falling of your own yawning.

at night i can scratch at scabs and forget that they'll be ugly and red and irritated in the morning. no consequences.

the later it gets, the more sentimental i become.

love to all and to all a good (and quiet) night.

love taylor

15

13

dear god.

all my dreams are lucid. does this say anything about me? marc think it's that i'm more conscious of myself. i think that marc's full of shit.

i wonder what things mean.

t

12

dear god.

hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope

it makes a difference, right? promise me that it makes a difference.

love taylor

11

dear god.

watching platoon makes me wish there was a way to make nobody hurt anybody, ever. i'm not even talking about the emotional hurt. but punching and shooting and killing is awful, you know? whose idea was that anyway? "let's go blow up everyone!!11!" no. let's not.

love taylor

10

dear god.

"why wont you praise me? i want your approval so badly."
sometimes petty entertainment is so fantastic.

love taylor

9

dear god.

what is the worth of work?
and will it ultimately all matter?

yes, no, maybe so.

senioritis.

love taylor

8

dear god.

i wish nobody was sad.

love taylor

7

dear god.

there are a lot of things i don't understand. i like to attribute this to seventeen. and in a lot of cases, i really like not knowing. i like that there's a learning process and i like not knowing the bad things.

i wish i could know some things that are coming. i wish i didn't have to wait on certainty.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid college.

love taylor

6

dear god.

scratch that.

lies that will be believed.

sometimes failure is fun!

love taylor

5

dear god.

with 99.99999999% percent of the world's population, i hate lies.

even lies of omission.

love taylor

4

dear god.

sometimes i wonder. they ask you to write about a hundred essays on it. romeo and juliet. the oddysey. probably a hundred others that i'm not thinking about right now. fate or no?

usually i think i'm a no. make your own fate, right? free will.

but sometimes i have a minute or a day or a week where i think that i could be wrong. if a tree falls in a forest and nobody's around to hear, did it happen by accident? or does it happen for a reason?

this is not a comforting thought. i like the idea that i am in control of my own future and fate and destiny. and i like the idea that if i choose to leave my shoe untied it's from my own laziness, not because my tripping later today will have some higher meaning.

and yet i am a wisher. i will wish on any good portent that comes my way because what if its true and i dont? disaster, worlds ending, wishes dying for nothing. what if its not true and i do? nothing more than nothing.

sometimes i wish i believed in things more or less.

love taylor

3

dear god,

i think it says things about me when you look to whom i say "goodbye" and to whom i dont.

let's clarify.
category one: my mother
category two: every other "see you soon," "talk to you later," or "goodnight" that has such a lesser degree of permanence or severance to it.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, but prolonged absence makes it easier to forget. when weeks turn into plurals, you need to be reminded that someone was ever there. forty-one thousand seconds later i forget what i was thinking when i started playing.

but this is day one following a "see you soon."

six weeks of soon.

everything is relative. i try to give my time to the people i'm going to miss, so if that makes me a bad person, so be it.

happiness with tea?

love
taylor

2

dear god,

i'm sure that i'm not alone in saying that i ask for a lot of shit, but don't give a whole hell of a lot in return. i believe the clergyman would call this praying. maybe there are people who (religiously speaking) are better than i am who do not abuse this policy in the most selfish of ways. i have never been, however, good at worshiping. it kind of sketches me out, to be honest.

january 2, 2010: oh my god (shit, but you get the point), thank you.

today was a very good day, and i'd like to take a moment to stop and appreciate that. and maybe you're up there playing the puppeteer, or maybe you're just a movie buff, watching the plot that never ends.

but for shiz? how great was today?

answer: an orchestrated masterpiece of the happy-endings scale.

days like these are the reasons i remain a staunch optimist, even when things go bad. days like these are the ones that instill my unbreakable faith that everything will turn out okay. i mean, when good things happen over and over again, how can you even start to doubt? this is why i don't understand hobbes. this is why i butt heads with the charming mr. mck.

i wish i could teach this to all the sad people.

so we've come back full circle, asking things again. but sadness begone?

i'll write the infomercial.

love,
taylor

1

dear god.

this is a plea. "dear god." a last-ditch attempt at "shit, i fucked this one up." again. "dear god"; i'm frustrated because someone did something stupid again, i'm rolling my eyes at ridiculous antics, i'm looking at the 70% on a math exam, i'm crying and hoping for someplace to live tomorrow.

so now, in a maybe too-tired but otherwise pretty content (if you're pulling the strings, holy shit thank you, by the way, for recent good tidings at the dawn of this new thing), i'm going to take a small moment to apologize for all the whining you get at my hands and at the hands of others.

i mean, even with the all-powerful thing, i wouldn't take your job for the world. i mean, i wouldn't even want to be the president. and that's a fleeting thing. eight years at best. i'm pretty sure you're saddled with this deity shit for an eternity.

sorry, man. so sorry.

dear god. take a vacation. it's on me.

love,
taylor