Damsel in distress.

Lured into the old fart's lair in the late of the night (rain had

always had the effect of addling her head), she wakes up to

the unfamiliar sound of a three-digit combination lock being

locked on the outside. She approaches the door with caution

and slowly turns the knob. Click. She pushes the door. Clank.

It doesn't budge. The damsel is left to stare at the great white

door in disbelief.

Men.

She finds her contacts (her 'eyes', as she likes to call them) 

and looks around. She is left with a TV, a brand new pop-up

tent, and eight copies of a thesis on democracy and terrorism.

She sits down in a heap on the floor and sighs. How to get out

of this predicament? The old fart had already left home to make

his daily rounds and wouldn't be back until after sunset. The

two open windows - gateways to freedom, if freedom meant

falling from the second story onto badly constructed cement 

roads - do naught but taunt her. Though a recently realized

expert at climbing over walls and breaking into rooms (in three

inch heels, I might add), the damsel had no experience what-

soever in escaping from such places.

She sighs again.

Reluctant as she was to admit her weaknesses, she decides to

send a message for help via wireless technology aka the cell

phone. How ironic, she thinks as she waits for an answer, that one person could be an old fart and a knight in shining body

hair at the same time.

Fairy tales.

Can you get high off 모기향? I'm sitting here and, though I can't

find any plausible reason, my mind's all wandering off into inner

space again. I'm naming my future kids and you know it's pretty

bad if it's gotten to that point. Can someone please turn my

brain off? Or at least put it into another gear.

I just read an old entry from March 5th. I don't know whether

to be sad or just laugh it off. The writings bring back a lot of

memories.

"wake me up when september ends.. because probably by that

time you will be gone from my life and i'll stop all this fussing

about you and me and us and what to do about it.

yes, i am guarded, but only towards those that i truly care for.

(that includes you, genius.) i know what i'm like but i wonder,

does that maybe intrigue you or does it just annoy you.

i guess, deep down inside, i know i still haven't decided.. how

or even if to open up to you. it's nothing more than a bunch of

feelings, isn't it? and feelings are so temporary.. or are they

the ones that last the longest. how would i know, when i pride

myself on not fiddling with the luxury.

i won't hang on when you leave. i'll be cool about it, low

maintenance to the end. i'll be sad but not devastated, and i'll

make sure the tears come only after you've gone. and more

than anything i'll be thankful to have had someone like you, if

only for a very short while.

you poor, poor man. what could you have possibly done to

deserve a closed-up, adolescent, ticklish wretch like me. you

make me feel so small. not in the inferior way, just small, like i

want to hide from the rest of the world. you asked me what i

thought about us. my answer, the one you'll probably never

hear, is, if the rest of my life was being here in this room with

you next to me, just like this, i'd still be happy. maybe even

happier, who knows.

i'm going to save my tears for this coming summer, so i can

have a really good cry after you've gone. maybe i'll cry into a

bucket and just drown myself. (wouldn't that be the funniest

most pathetic thing ever? me with my head stuck in a bucket

in the bathroom, drowned in my own salt water?)"