I have decided that I’m going to start a little thing called Red Ink, but it will be spelt RiEnDk to avoid confusion with other things. This is going to be me throughout the day writing down whatever pops into my head. It will all be in red ink. Submission one.
It’s 2AM. I Just watched Boys Don’t Cry & it started a train of thought that can’t be stopped. I cried for my situation for the first time in months. When was the last time I saw Psychobabble? I can’t even remember any more. I just stopped trying to. My bots ignore the facts & it drives me insane. I keep telling myself that it will all be okay in time, but I keep feeling like it will never happen. I keep these things to myself. I haven’t spoken to Star in a while. For some reason I still see myself as the self conscious follower I know I am. I don’t want to be, but I can’t be anything more with this name, life, body. I want to be stronger, but I can’t. And they all take it as a joke. I could be serious with them, but they will still be the teenagers I wish they weren’t. I wish I could be this bad ass kid and stick up for myself, but the truth is I will never be. I wasn’t given the change to be anything but this. HIM is mad lucky. I also think my bots could listen to me for once instead and swallow their pride for once & not cover up their feelings & do what I know is best for me. They say they’re trying, but I can’t believe it. It’s all phony. Lies, lies, lies, blah, blah, blah. Before I took out this notebook, I was thinking of selling my books, start saving money. I wanted to climb out the window and leave. Reality caught up with me, obviously. I want my binder. I think my bots sabotaged the package. I’ll get my 55$ back & leave. I’ll steal it back if I don’t get that thing. It’s been months. I haven’t said anything to them because I’m afraid to. I don’t want to start anything. I don’t need that. I don’t want that. The other night, in YN, I was reading and bot1 turned to me and asked if I still wanted to be a boy. Not wanting to start something because it was late for bot1, I dismissed the question. Our fighting will never subside. I feel bad for my mex & bot2 for there is nothing they can do to stop it. Funny. The T would confuse mex. Mex still thinks being gay is bad, what would mex think of me? It’s why I want to leave & never look back. This “family” is falling apart. It’s not as bad as some, but I’ve said before: a man cannot know another man’s suffering without suffering what he felt. Try as we might, we can only guess within a shadow. I want to go to Under as Kyan. I want to go as a he & I want to go with ZJ because I couldn’t do it alone. I’m so weak. I blame my bot2 for the situation I’m in with bot2. If bot2 could shut up for ten minutes and keep things to them self. Sometimes bot2 makes me ill. Physically. I’m supposed to be asleep. I was supposed to make a shirt for DoS but I don’t really care any more. (this is where pictures come in to aid you)
I keep staring at the ceiling
And I clockwatch the hours fall.
Ideas of a home & home lost
A latter falling through a window.
I say, “Are you feelin’ me?”
The stars pass by the street.
Nothing is all I own.
Night air breathes for me.
Streetlamps become the stars
I say, “Are you feelin’ me?”
Passing fantasies drive by bullet.
Smokes and bottles lace the cars.
I wonder if my life is starting.
Clock work I leave the city.
I say, “Are you feelin’ me?”
Running from those demons, eh?
Your mother never told you, yeah?
Demons are as real as day.
Spit to the right & come with him.
I SAY, “ARE YOU FEELIN’ ME?”
visual aid
Why is writing in red pen so wrong? I never understood that. If I try, maybe I can sleep for three hours.
I’m more deranged then I lead on.
Dekay’s the only one who knows.
You think I’m telling you?
Chyeah, right.
He’d love to, oh well, mind your head.
Sometimes I forget that I’m alive. Other times I question reality. I think that nothing is real. I almost thought that everything was my creation and everything is in my head. I forget reality. Right now, nothing is real. Maybe my hand is a bird and it’s all chicken skratch. It takes a person walking by for me to realize things are real.
I’m sorry. I’m bad at describing this. My hand is a bird.
Go on. You’re going well. My pen is the beak.
That’s all I had to say. Sorry. Everything is chickin sktrach.
Oh. It’s okay. CHIKIN SKRACH
It’s your job to say that.
SUVS. LIARS.
CIA.
DEMOCRACY.
LIARS.
Beware the jubjub bird with eyes aflame.
THE JABERWOCK.
and with its head he went galumping back.
JABERWOCKY.
^depressing Dr. Seuss
Days of our lives. 1,75$
Snarky is a word, jingle.
DRIVING.
BUYING.
LIARS.
Lucas is _________________
Moor. moot. moo. cow. Lana. Nebraska. Hicks.
sleep. tired. rest. stop. cars. red. cops. democracy. liars. movies. zeus. greek. odysseus. greek. egypt. pharaoh. yu-gi-oh. STOP
I’m scared of the dark & silence so I play music to ignore it. I want to fill these pages with nothings.
Carry me to sleep.
visual aid
(school) 
It goes in one ear & right out the other. They say the devil is my pal. I remember TTT told me to stare at a white board in my head. I think TTT said to gradually fill the room, or I’m mixing memories again. Apparently staring at it in my head will help me sleep or meditate 
or something. Mrs. Face would look pretty, but it’s Mrs. Face’s face. It’s wither the face of the body. The tube of red ink looks like a vile of blood…not red enough, though. Like a dying person. Anemic. The can feel the ball when I draw on myself. 
Do you know the enemy? Know your enemy. 
The trees are supposed to have white flowers, but they’re sea-foam green against the grey sky. Its almost as if they’re glowing in the dark. Celebrate good times, come on! Village People, Ellen, lesbian, Shane. The dog eats the chicken in the morning. 
When girls are… it reminds me of picking a nose or treasure hunting. Maybe if someone could crawl though it would be a magic land with forests, pixies, sunshine & girliness. Like the Fitzwilliam on the Big Gay Sketch Show who wants to go to Vaginaland. In gym class I wanted to roll around and spin on my head. I decided not to and look sane. Mr. PM’s head looks like a purple smurf. Mr. PM the hickey. I feel like being obnoxious, but I don’t feel like pissing people out. Hm… It’s all in my head (no really it is).
Nasal is a nose singing corn like…badly. It drives me insane. Not swearing is harder than it appears. It’s an addiction of the voice. I felt like tromping around the class as if I were upon a horse, Sleepy Hollow style (go to 1:01). I think that speakers said, “Willy Wang.” I laughed. I want to take my shirt off. It’s too hot in here for me. Why aren’t girls allowed their shirts off like men? It’s the same thing inflated. I had the urge to dance like I had spasms, The short guy, ‘roid droid, my theory is right before he hit puberty, the shoved ‘rouds up his ass. I should photocopy my ass and the willy. If there was a way to take drugs without any risks for anything, be it health, mentality, gateways, addictions, anything, I would do it to know the effects. Sometimes I have conversations in my head of the future. If I said this, they would reply exactly that way. If that happened, would I be God? And when i have the convos. I always mention it’s in my head, and sometimes it’s hard to believe myself. If I repeat myself, don’t mind it. According to Star, I have the memory of a goldfish. So, sorry in advance.
That’s okay. I don’t judge.
I say that, too. But it’s a lie. We’re all hypocrites. It’s part of the human condition. We say we don’t sin & we want to be closer to God, but we go against ourselves. Liars are nothing more than hypocrites, it’s just different words. I think I just reminded myself of the psycho in Se7en. I could start my own religion where you can worship whatever. It won’t be organized. There won’t be books. There will only be a few rules:
1.Love & be loved by all.
2. Bring peace with you.
3. Do not force your religion onto others.
4. Have tolerance for others.
5. Abide by local laws.
6. Do not kill for any reason.
7. Understand with open arms.
Utopia?
Live. In. Head. I forgot reality again. I’m still not back. I just decoded my thoughts. I had written 
and I figured it out. Soon. People need to stop calling me Vicki. Now more than ever they are and I have no idea why. But they won’t take my feelings into consideration because their own. Swallow it! SWALLOW IT! I was trembling this morning. I’m a tremblin’ again. My security was breeched because I left this open. Of course I leave it open for someone to read, but it’s violated. My life is an open book now, open with blood for all to see. I knew it would happen. But the line read…The line. I didn’t really think anyone would read it. I honestly didn’t. It’s different when I share it on purpose, but…it’s stealing. Mrs. Sloopy stole my mind, a part of it. Will Mrs. Sloopy understand? I feel naked again. What makes something right or wrong? Polite or impolite? It all seems so trivial to me. The bus smells like a glue bottle. My pants look like a retro video game. I’m going to make a code for people. I don’t need people figuring me out. I like to remember things from the day and make things more fun with conversation. I don’t like going to far for fear of freighting people away. The irony: I feel awkward after I’m accepted. 
I will A need to see
Swallow your fear
All the bite marks impress a need to be here.
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