dear jaime and amber, umm i feel an onset of rambling coming on, making less sense than it does. i always talk to much, but say too little, unlike the both of you. lately ive been talking too little, and saying too much. and its not really my place. i wonder "where is this place and where does my place belong in this?" i mean, i dont really know what i mean. what are my intentions? why am i always too irrationally rational to myself? of course. i make it about me. its to you. to you guys. you women. you people. you people i enjoy so much. you people rock and you people i would rather spend more time with than any other people. i love using you people when its you people. and um, im am sincerly sorry that my insecurities play a role in others enjoyment. i mean it. im so fucking sarcastic all the time no one knows when im not. a little too off. off. beats. because i really dont mind being the third wheel. its a refreshing reality. like when his food is better than mine. and i sound like such and asshole. you know. i dont want to be a third wheel when it comes to sex though. to desire. to affection. thats where my insecurities lie. thats where i break. im not as cool as sugar free jazz. im fully loaded with artifical flavors and high fructose corn syrup. i make diabetics shiver. and for this i am scared. scared that making out while im not present will feed longings and will blossom nocturnal flowers. flowers that blossom at night are the prettiest. but what differance does my presence make? merely a road block. it wont be closed off for ever. big men in dirty jeans and orange vests will hold signs saying "double fines next 25 miles." but i drive like your blind grandma and you drive like my dead dad. i got in an accident with him once. he had a white dodge rabbit. or was it a volkswagon? either way, it was rad. and i know what you want and i know what you want. or at least i think i do. and i feel i like i have a perfect understanding of not understanding. it just doesnt sit well. its such a confusing feeling. for lack of better word- ambivilant. i know i use it to much, like everything else, play it out till i am fucking forced to rip out the life support plug. its dead. do not resesitate. im so good at saving bullshit. pack rat. mental pack rat. thoughts full. day dreaming about girls kissing and me missing. so then. i guess im giving up. giving up seems to be the good thing. the thing to be is uneffected. or affected. whats the differance, right? i think im so scared to be... sometimes. you know? how fucking lame. i feel so out of touch. so old. soo not new. and you know, it kinda sucks. i want to feel new. you are new. you guys. im really looking forward to hanging out. i swear. its exciting. yours truly, sacha