I wonder sometimes why these old things bother me at all? I think "so what? why is that such a big deal?" and I don't have an answer. why do some things remain? bad things have happened to me before and I don't think about them ever. how does my soul decide what it wants to hold onto and dissipate over, over an over again? what's the criteria? what do I need to stay away from? all very unclear. is anything ever resolved at all? I've been writing for as long as I can remember. something new surfaces from the murk every time. when does this get over? when does this really really end? //10:16
12:21, fact: Paris, Texas is my favourite romance
12:24, fact: I have an eye for detail, it shows in my art. you have an eye for detail, it showed in your disposition. I've become you in more ways than I could catch onto back then. except, more of an emotional puddle. we both have a way of twisting voice and words to create the kind of connection we want.
12:31, fact: you said once that I have an impulsive side. it sounded like I reminded you of you when you were younger. I think I liked it. if you saw me now, would I still remind you of you? when you were this age? I think it would and you would be repulsed // [added 19 feb, 10:56: I think I'm reliving your years as I grow older and older]
I want to be near you. tell me about your new job? does it make you tired? why do you wear green so much? you're a eucalyptus tree with your fumigant leaves all high and unreachable //22:16
I'll die one day. I want to disappear in water. in a vast ocean where nobody will find my body. there are people who can become better but some of us here are fucked and sick and never prayed for and have to erase their flesh before someone witnesses the dirt. someday I'll be born again in some woman's belly in a distant land in a time where all the murk has cleared. she would smile at her little growing swell and I'll feel it through my tiny body. I will live so beautifully then. I will live so fucking beautifully //23:31
18 feb
