closed

i wish i knew how to let myself be open again.

thanks & giving

oh no. haven't updated or written on here in about a month.
sigh.
who's reading anyway?
it's been a busy time, strangely.
losing jobs, looking for jobs, holidays, leaves changing, weather changing - always.
i fall in love every day
and every night i lie down to mystery.
i'm content, i'm confused, i'm excited,
everything's jumbled up in my head
and i think i'm happy with it.
i'm watching a documentary about a new york fashion photographer.
my biggest decision at this moment is what color i'm going to paint my nails next.
i'm missing my boyfriend's touch.
i'm full from spinach alfredo pizza.
these things won't matter tomorrow.
or maybe they will, who knows.
soon it will be december and winter.
i don't know if i'm ready.
well, of course i'm ready.
i know deep down i can't live in the past.
i've been living there too long.
maybe i'll look ahead with... enthusiasm? without fear?
i'm full of shit, but tomorrow will still come.
and i'll be here to soak in the light through windows, through cracks, through chill air, through snowflakes... reflected in lovers' eyes, absorbed directly in tangled hair.
i'll sleep soundly in the gentle flow of life.

pumpkin donuts

it's been a while
it's almost [it is] november and i can't believe it
where have all my seasons gone?
my inspiration's lying somewhere in golden leaves...
time is playing tricks on me and all the other confused souls
where to go, what to do, who to be
when to let go and when to keep close
hold tightly
snuggle into new flannel sheets
and wait for winter
holidays approach
and i'm not ready to let more time go
lightly between my fingers, slip and fall into place
and we let things change
because that's the only way
to live
a forever goodbye
forever awkward greeting
after awkward greeting
a whisper to soothe
i'm here, you'll be okay,
you'll fall in love with me and never want me to leave
whispers are lovely sometimes
like a lover's lips grazing an ear
or a whisper felt in a look of longing
sandwiched between two bodies
stopped by a finger pressed against lip
shhh shhh i'm here, it's all okay
i'm listening and waiting
meanwhile...

this is ridiculous and i don't want to finish it.

hello lonely one
it's me
i saw you yesterday with gummy bears
and a crazy will to live and lounge
in beds we made with
lanky limbs to cover our mistake
of falling in love falling in pillow
soft reckless energy
spinning down down
down carried into clouds
dropped into waffle house and tv shows
into a vacuum of space
where time is just a dream
an afterthought we miss
look at me look the other way look
at our shaking souls
shivering before winter
and times unspeakable
silent vows to
dead weighted air
a promise to tomorrow
we can't keep
but we'll try and fail and forget
the invisible shields
carry me again forever
to couch to cigarette to hungry passion to home
in piles of autumn leaves pumpkin pudding cakes sleeping in and inhaling the world

september

came and went so quickly.
does it feel that way to anyone else?

"i missed you."

there we were
face to face again
his blue reflecting my brown
and he uttered
the most important sentence
of my life
or at least
the evening
post-orgasm post-loneliness post-
pillow soft dancing fingers
eyelectricity
circuited
down
down
to magnetic mouths
charged friction
they burst into flames
and sent our bodies to
another universe, truth
waves sent the message
in a touch a caress on face
hidden in semi-
dark glinting
new noises for new existence
simple words that are said too often and
not said enough
i bathed in the sounds and
let them transport me
into the openings of heart, his
i was again we
sank into sleepy slumber
and the words hung in the air
suspended our souls on display
mechanical magic hidden beneath blanket
stretches for reassurance
testing the limits of loneliness
making sure the bonds were broken
we're no longer trapped, said the limbs,
we can piece ourselves together again into the
shabby puzzle we started with
said the limbs...
but enough of that
bodies tell better stories than me
so simple, really
who needs anything more than
those three honest words

life

funny how it can suck, yet be completely harmonious. i won't say things are falling into place, but they're falling somewhere.

a wandering thing

i drive and drive and still can't see the road
a focus only inches from blind eyes
the world sinks to blur
and it takes my heart with it
babble to remind me that
i can't speak
and the voices echo echo echo that
i'm not alright
bus to train to feet to train to bus
and i'm not alright...

unfinished

sigh.

i'm back to being very, very worried about myself.
sigh.
i didn't mean for this blog to become a whiny mope fest, but i'm at a really strange place right now.
i just need to go out and do it...
do something
do everything.
why do i always torture myself?
what am i afraid of?
will i ever be functional again?
bleh...
noon edit: i'm too hard on myself. things aren't hopeless. i'm not hopeless. i'm just grumpy in the morning sometimes.

another saturday

and i'm feeling better.
probably because my birthday is on monday
and i'll be 21.
i feel old
but at the same time
this feels like an
opportunity
to really
grow
challenge myself
and
get my life back in motion.
my birthday gifts to myself were
moleskine notebooks and film.
hopefully i'll use them well
and begin to feel like
myself
again.

saturday morning ramblings

8am saturday morning lemon tea
i didn't sleep well
and i don't know if it's because i miss him
or i miss me

i cried last night reading my book
because i kept reliving similar moments we shared
how we met, how we acted, conversations we had, the uncertainty
each page left me more and more nostalgic
for what, i'm not sure

lounging around the apartment in nothing but comfort
trapping ourselves in a cage of limbs, or cigarettes, or cups of tea
shooing away the world in 5am smoke, darkness and quiet belonging to us
and us only
holding hands just to make sure we're still there, he's still there, still mine
avoiding serious questions, fragile
balancing a glass vase of emotions, fears, doubts, plans
and watching it gracefully fall
examining the shattered pieces, wondering if it will ever be the same
wondering if it'll ever be the same, if we can just glue it back together
and resigning to the purchase of a new vase, smaller but it still holds everything we need
still holds the same amount of love, stem by stem, each flower plucked when ready

9am and i'm not making sense
of these feelings and thoughts
never wanting to let go or leave the house
stagnant
waiting in vain for things to move themselves
reality
facing it to balance our lives, to welcome the future, to understand the ease with which we can protect vases and the truth that there will be other vases, infinite vases that may break or stay intact
and understanding that a book is a book, my life is not a book

i'm getting tired of vases
and i'm tired of the bland day to day motions of life i endure
i'm tired of sleeping alone
and waking up
alone
of feeling constantly alone even when i'm not

[i miss being alive.]

i am lonely.
i am falling apart.
i am dull
aging blade.
i am forgetting how to speak, walk, live
wake up.

i am drinking lemonade and feeling sad.

it's funny how so much can change in a week, a day, a weekend...
and funnier still how so much hasn't changed at all.
still can sip beer together on a couch, get high and make a trip for falafel, talk and watch nonsense over cigarettes...
but then again, it's only been a few days. who knows what will happen.
---
the loneliness i always feel has gently increased.
i feel i have nowhere to go, nothing to do.
i'm taking up space, becoming furniture.
furniture in no one's home,
the sort of furniture you see on the curb, in someone's front yard, forgotten in the back of a thrift store.
i'm not meant for jobs or school or any sort of success or motivation.
i'm meant for people to forget about until i'm proven useful, like a chair.
i'm driving myself insane
because there's nothing else to do.

glue

and the world crashes like a wave on every particle of my body
i've forgotten ocean communication
something about speaking to the salt
drinking tea blood
cherry atop a sad sunday
---------------------------
i painted my nails the sky
clouds and blue
white and atmosphere
---------------------------
i leave notes for him in the morning
when he's left for work and i have the apartment to myself
yesterday a bath of milky fiber
and emerged dripping my brain onto paper
poetic nonsense inhaled like the rectangle scrap i sprayed with cannabis rose
leave part of me for him in the evening
---------------------------
the elements have been kind to me lately
lovely nature greetings
zoom through my eyes
corrupt my brain and
flee to necessary limbs and joints
---------------------------
this doesn't make sense but
how can i explain that
my hands are the eternity in every cloud that hangs in the sky
that tea invigorates my veins fills cavities with history and hope
a taste touches tongue spreads and expands to the remaining blandness
spewing truth
trees whisper birds twitter their mysterious simplicity
an ocean within and without apply pressure to my body to keep it from
falling apart
from crumbling
and from dying without ever knowing the beauty in momentary crashes
the life in shifting twisting twirling
until pain subsides
and you cry just to cry just because you can because rivers and streams and lakes need an escape just like every other molecule in the universe
that in every chaotic second there is union
a kiss exchange meeting
a familiar face skeleton
harmony transferred from brain to hand to paper to hand to eye to heart

a drain to what

i feel dead
like someone sucked the life out of me
i can barely smoke the cigarette he slipped into my pack
i am melting
beneath summer heat and summer obligations
i am shrinking
and crying
and wailing
anguish sounds in every message
look
burning incense stick
every cup of tea
shattered mugs in the imagination
a wind that won't carry me away
punctuated rain
sleepytime allthetime
i told my soul to wake up
shaken beaten chastised
and still it slumbers
until some second coming
a second season or
a second fuck or
a second life
a third a fourth
a century wasted
on cheap wine and television
cheap people and stories
a skeleton ready to buckle
be assembled anew
replaced
instructed
in the proper ways of growing up
and growing boring
growing dead and dissatisfied
i can't do it
lift my arm
it's deteriorating
ruin flowing through veins
leaden weight keeping me immobile
lies churning brain whirlpool
a drain to what

his hair in my hair

strands descend like light through
curtained windows
to the bathroom for a long walk to work
forget the sunset
dream in daylight
and swaying smile to bedsheets
hide between layers under pillows
drift in and out of smoky universes
but always return home
to the golden waves
cerulean outposts
to guide the lost to safety

short and sweet. trying to get back in the rhythm of writing, the habit of twisting my perception just so so that it's readable, consumable.

trying to figure out what to do with my life

and i'm feeling stuck

may flowers

not writing, not good
spring gray with a chance of shower-kisses
i don't know what to tell you, i keep drifting away in the wind
some photos:

kangaroo hugs

and i want a cat to cuddle with when he's not here
kangaroo hugs ignite star fire displacement sadness
leave me still lonely
too much ice cream
a few too many dollars spent on past window displays
silly meandering
car rides full of air and all the breaths we forgot to take during the week
every gust of wind carrying the tunes of our souls to far reaches of city sprawl
a few cylinders of smoke and squinting timewatch
heavy moviewatch droopy lids to eventual nap
and a song unfurls to narrate the inescapable truth of union
when development arrested lies in spectator spotlight
and our legs motion to dance to keep crowds appeased
when all else is muffled dispatched shredded
and reveals greenblack patterns and enormous cuffs
lemon ginger tea and upset stomaches
to remember what it feels like to not love
i don't care to
and they only care to hear frail floral shouts and sighs of dying fabric species
and we'll laugh our feline laughs howl to companions and moon mother
limbs entwine breathe as one munch on hairstring envision lemonade
create summer a few too many times before summer
kiss ourselves to sleep in the day's lull
and wait wait wait for the next for the passing for

if this is treatment

how is emotionless gray
different, better than
streams of whiteblue droplets
ribbons of crimson
brilliant sparks quickly fading
short half-lives
i ask because i don't know which way to go
which is best
i'm hated either way
seasons change and nature laughs
at me every time
every day different but identically horrible
it only takes the weight sustained in a second
a hesitant word, an ill-phrased message, a forced greeting
the endless eternities suspended
between kisses, glazed eyes, vehicles, generations
if this is getting better i think i want my illness back
if this isn't i think i want my illness back
i want my illness back
ill back to back plunged into pillow softness
stretched for angles
liberated ribs hands bodypart bodypart
and a rigid spine complaining about things the heart can't say
things that make the mind cower surrender relapse
moisture outside walls outside lids
inside canyon lies
what to fit into these spaces
flinging bottles bouncing surface to surface echo
voices of tomorrow warning of yesterday
plastic universes shatter the inhabitants dissolve in lava
godzilla dances donuts create cartoons sigh size up the gods
fling everything to hell to gutters to treetops to abyss of coatpocket
scatter and gather and throw into a pile with all articles of bullshit
molded television shows and pills and cigarettes and gummy nonsense we occasionally call food
preservation for whatwho
why did the blank cross the blank
why does everyone ever blank and blank and blank
a blink
and then it's all gone
a world crafted constructed erected manually disappeared destroyed silent
hissing fade slowing heartbeat vibrating memories
tears emerge from the coaxing city and feet respond
pitterpatter of truth sidewalk rhythm
the distant being strains to ignore
wraps up in blankets nestles into boy
ignorance isn't bliss...
i could go on forever
the problem is i could go on forever

update thing

though i can count the number of readers of this blog on my hand, i suppose a bit of an update is necessary. especially because i don't feel like sharing any writing right now.
i've spent the greater part of a week in the fetal position flooding myself in my own tears.
i keep contemplating cutting, suicide, running away.
i need to stop blaming myself, stop hating myself. i'm not weak.
i haven't showered since saturday.
i think i'm falling in love with a boy. or perhaps i'm already there. i don't know.
i don't remember the last time i had a full, uninterrupted night of sleep.
i'm on new medication.
i'm getting fat. (sort of. my perception is sort of fucked up.)
instead of driving to nowhereforever this afternoon, i went to my appointment with my therapist and had a bit of a breakthrough. i feel okay for right now.
but also anxious anxious anxious. i need to get out.
my journal is an absolute mess of sad thoughts, strange dreams, words to people i'll never utter out loud.
i lay in bed and watch movies, drink tea... but today i saw a glimpse of the future i had once dreamed a long time ago. it may not mean much, but at least i'm starting to see it again.
that means a lot to me. to someone like me. with disorders like mine that make even the next few hours impossible to imagine, see, trust, believe in.
i haven't had a sudden epiphany, and everything isn't magically in place, but i feel okay for right now.
this will probably change soon.
but that's okay.

we

weaved through aisles of food
rows of fruit, sweets, bread
he paused for a moment in the floral section
his eyes searched and his fingers plucked a single red rose
from the rows of roses
i smiled as he smiled as he handed the long piece of love to me
and we were off, weaving again
the cart grew less empty
every few suspended breaths lost in a sea of
plastic red green rosysmell
hungry fluorescent giggle limbs
rattling cart, judging eyes - teas and lasagnas and colanders on trial
breads hummus mozzarella, we ate a lot
nodded off to sleep as air played in the background and a mug cooled in a hand
cuddling isn't the worst way to spend all night and all morning
rib hello cat stretch
earl grey cigarettes silent nudges
inaudible roarous growling meowing licking animal yawns
comfortable and funny, bare and layered
wild wolves

i feel much better today, to say the least.

my boy drinking tea. his smile/expression/everything makes me smile.

3/5/11 pieces of my journal

home definitely brings out the suicide in me.

yesterday

mock sleep, mock exercise, a few
flimsy stretches, shower and stefan at easton
sunlight to make amends for my cloudy eyes,
for the haze of smoke and regret and dark
displacement, my empty self
a cup too full of coffee, my stomach wants nothing
my head, pounding - not actually pounding, but i
feel the familiar ache
like every other familiar ache
silent sculpting and an opportunity for solidity
solidarity but i throw my invisible hands
up and wait for the inevitable power tsunami,
for the orange cup to empty itself
strings of hair and broken nerves
barb said my brain is broken - the fuck
i feel sick, my physical body finally catching
up to my in-repair workshop, my self-disintegrating
system
i decide to not take a pill and my world crumbles
insides knotted, guts in the back of my imagination
a short story and a short existence
he steadily working to create, me steadily working
against all creation, all self, all time

3/22/11 pieces of my journal

3am, half naked smoking on Tomi's front door step,
welcome mat indeed, listening to and feeling the rain, a breeze,
a chill up my bare legs, thin braless tee, crouching and then standing
then crouching again, pushing air out of me,
breathing back in only to lose again
waiting for a stream of tears, for my meds to appear
or for me to appear
maybe in my bed or in someone's arms or maybe just appear to be
like the rest of them
not care about everyone not caring like the rest of them
my body is trapped somewhere...

a portion of my 3am scribbles on tues 3/22

stefan

i wait i wake

i wake up every day and think of ways to kill myself
reasons methods
wonder what i'd accomplish with an extra week, year, decade
i go back to sleep to ease the thoughts
i play music to mirror my sadness
reflect deflect
i twist stretch and twist my body
force myself to
feel monitor
my breathing
i wake up some days and decide to just dull the pain a bit
a pill a body a cup of tea a binge a purge
all
amplified repeated
throbbing death ebbing existence
confession crying
diminished understated
i smoke another cigarette for the burn
cough
i bring memories to surface for the pain
clenching
truth in the
strangeness distance meaninglessness
a long hallway paced by the sanely insane
doctors nurses pills meals groups
strange distant meaningless
a patient comes a patient goes
no contact information
maybe a facebook friend request another numbered blank face
i felt home
now i wake up see familiar faces go familiar places
i feel death creeping closer
though i meditate and re-energize
become lithe sway into feline instincts
i crawl into bed more frequently
pray to buddha i don't have to wake up again
i scribble the nothingness of days
i wait

nothing

nothing about this is working.

bonjour

i am currently on the 10th floor of nyu langone med center.
i had parfait and cheerios for breakfast today. i'm waiting to eat my banana until later.
i scanned through a book on dali just a bit ago.
i woke up at 5am and couldn't fall back asleep. i spent the quiet hours meditating, doing some yoga and pilates, having a peaceful shower, drinking tea, writing in my journal, and reading a book i found on one of the shelves in the day room (common area/kitchen).
i need to charge my ipod, or see if i have any missed calls or texts (phone is charging in the office).
i am sucking on some nicorette gum. i want my cigarettes.
i have a lovely roommate who brought me some of my things last night; and a lovely new boy zachary who visited, played ping pong, and cuddled with me.
i don't know when i'm leaving, what the plan is, but i'm adjusting, and i'm okay for now.
i want to nap.
smiley face breakfast ending: tea wink, unbalanced smile.

oh shit

a friend texted me today and asked how i'm doing today.
i answered a mix between shitty and dead.
i texted someone else that i am falling apart.
she replied really? couldn't tell.
sarcasm.
racing taxis, filled tubs, deprived bodies, slit wrists, diseases,
this is all i'm thinking about today. forever.
i am falling apart.

i am dead inside

my body is sore from yoga
my heart feels empty, the place where he last laid his head
doesn't seem like it exists anymore
he kissed my forehead, wanted me to stay another night
i couldn't fall asleep and then i slept too late
my therapist told me to start carrying my camera again
like a pack of cigarettes
replace death with eternity
it doesn't seem to be working, all my cameras grow dust
ash blows in the wind
the sun shines on my tired mind
i don't know what school is anymore
i only feel home in his earth-sculpted arms
different voices talk me to sleep
and i wake up always as lonely
books and words and oatmeal cookies
4am subway platforms
in treatment

blueberry scone and a nap through class

my body is tired from too much life i think
anxious tapping body talking in arm chair
listening eyes and ears for the confession
listening but i'm quiet and tap tap tapping
stomach trained for beer, bacon, cum
nothing but a shadow of the eternities of
fuck swirling in pools of sidewalk slush
leather on concrete skin on skin lip on shoulder
death on bone sheet upon sheet of bleary dream
sequence, a steady heart motion hip movement
hand grabbing cigarette crushing
ceasing seizing ginger and grief
and staring bathroom walls
squared towels
unfinished plates of food and land
shifting constant
tomorrow isn't certain
and yesterday chloe felt like my best friend
feline companion from my past life
this, endless,
void
echoing he he he he
hello afternoon
supermarket fairytale
tell me how tomorrow goes

2/5/11

all afternoon in bed is a nice hangover cure.

sweet

her lips tasted faintly like mint, coffee, and mystery. sweet atypically, like a shot of rum or a piece of sour candy.

back in new york

first day of the semester, but i don't have any monday classes. (for now at least before i decide to entirely rearrange my schedule, which has happened in the past.)
i do have an appointment with the psychiatrist, though. depression swag.
i feel like there is so much i should be doing - buying books, working to erase the incompletes from last semester, looking for a job - but all i seem capable of is sitting with a cup of tea and my favorite book. drinking and reading a thousand times over, waiting for the mystery of the universe to unfold or for the world to end in great combustion. waiting for something.
i'll eventually wait outside, but it will be cold.
the sun will shine, but it will be cold.
i'll face the sunlight with cigarette and scarf
and winter will greet me uninvited
overstayed its welcome.
it's almost noon
and i'm wondering if anything is different, if noon yesterday had the same meaning as noon today. if i have the same meaning, the same chemicals in my body, the same rotting and decaying feeling in my limbs. if noon today is noon last week, noon last month.
at around three yesterday, as i watched the city coming closer closer to my view, i thought i felt a lifting. as if the plane itself transferred some of its miraculous qualities and i could lift myself away into the clouds with my newfound or reappeared bliss. i thought i felt a lifting. will three pm yesterday be the same as three pm today.
i'm here in the city now, a speck from yesterday's view. invisible between the skyline. i'm the city now. there's nothing to approach when you're already there.
so i wonder.
i'll wonder and watch, anticipate and avoid,
drink and read and smoke
and smile and lie and lay and sleep,
until...
what.
so i wonder.

blah

feeling strange. these last few days at home, these days anticipating city life again. dreading school again. i feel more suspended than usual. i don’t think i’ve ever felt this homeless, this confused. at a loss for words, wits, pleasures.

texts from earlier today
friend: u go back to ny next week?
me: sunday!
friend: o wow, cool beans?
me: i don’t know. not sure how i feel.

crippled by growing anxiety. kept awake by my failures and imminent short-comings. exhaustion through anticipation. an endless stare in the mirror to figure out if the same person i was when i arrived, left, was away, is here now. did it change at all, are they all one? or is the me lurking somewhere in my dark new york streets; is it yawning in my old bed; or hunched over a desk in some classroom, gasping for remaining breath; betraying life, leaving it with chalkboard scribbles, empty eyes attached to empty fingers? is it dead? am i dead?
is it dead? am i dead? is it dead? am i dead?
i’m growing tired of being a zombie...

wrote this on tumblr just a few minutes ago. it's the only thing that slightly captures my current state. words/thoughts/allthings just haven't been coming easy lately.

hello again

today is my mother's birthday
i spent the morning cutting and pasting
like a child again
or even like the me of last year, two years ago, high school
how have i gotten so old so quickly, i thought
as i chose the correct shade of pencil, ripped pages from natgeo
it feels like i haven't done this in centuries, i realized,
was that another life question mark
what creature was i then
i carried the card and little bag to the classroom
greeted my first love with a happybirthday and a smiletoendallsmiles
her eyes lit, voice rose
i spent the afternoon in a little chair at a little table
in the classroom filled with little people, mini-humans
vivacious curious little people
i sat at the little table ripping pages, writing things,
listening to mrs. lattimore's stern but gentle voice,
loud at times silent at others
i shared some conversation with my new peers
waving and giggling and whispering
it felt like i hadn't done that in centuries
how have i gotten so old so quickly
i towered over my new friends
though still very much a child my mother's baby
as i extended hand or grin to new faces
my heart and limbs were curious
like a child's again
expectant eyes silently questioning, what shall i do next
laughter spilling out of my nervous throat
yelling, oh the hilarity of life
curious hands cutting simple bodies accepting orders
lining up saying prayers
me praying to never grow old
to stop where i am turn back time
be a child
feel like a child again
to sit at little tables with my little self for the remainder of my
little life

an endless cigarette...

i am ignoring texts and calls
making promises i won't keep
sorry world,
until later

sleepy january, headaches, new yesterday

every day i lay in bed, stare out the window,
see the snow fall, gather
make a prison of my home
and just a few moments ago i realized that
around this time last year
i felt sort of the same
i told my mom i wanted to go back to new york
and yet somehow i'm back here again
empty again
still waiting
for life and happiness and
other young, human things
but different because i
turned, and fell,
slipped somewhere...

i can't wait to be back in the city with more distractions.

1/4/11, pieces of my journal

holed up in the closet like Margot Tenenbaum
cigarettes, underwear, choice of entertainment
Howl appetizer then on to Bukowski, a
mockingbird on fire
cigarettes tinged with candy cane sweetness
they begin to taste like food, this all
the meal i need
because my thighs are still fat - as I
made the blade remind me for the coming
days, successfully and unsuccessfully cutting
scraping and drawing closer to death
inching closer to strangers with mischievous
eyes and wonderful hearts but not watchful
enough as they're flung to the heavens
hoping to be caught by some curvy angel
some promiscuous frail soul to manipulate
in bed in streets in dark closets on floors in texts
and still hiding somewhere in stores on
couches in crowded rooms flooded by
poems of tomorrow and long lists of relationship
criteria for the masses dissolved in a
defeated ship
head aching for something the pills can't
cure water can't quench something
beyond cigarettes and transcending into
lucid dream world letters into hungry
ripping panties an ache further than caffeine
further than clouds' billowy sway trek
unrelenting in sleep and stained sheets
pounding pounding pounding away at the innards
of brain and stomach acid
music to drown out and clap away the rain
punch and pull the pain crash wave against
wave and fall asleep in the world's corner
grass dead and growing rising in vapor to
bring joy to others more deserving