"I used to, I usedto, I use dto, I used to think that all people could more or less get along if there weren't gaping ideological differences betwixt them. that is not true. some people just create commoving crackles of electricity that pull you in, for no reasonable reason, even if there are enormous differences, and I can't explain why. pheremones? McFate? WHO KNOWS. but it's always exciting. some people just hit it off, have chemistry, and love each other."

I am amazed and knocked slightly off my high perched soul to read this, and these that I was fortunate to stumble across. I write this hoping that you have received my message. From the tickertape of thoughts that streams from my brain and feeds into the all knowing mouth of everyone I know, so that nothing is mine and everyone knows more than I do. It makes for a perplexing situation, because I know nothing, and I skitter about crashing into things, hopelessly clumsy and carefree and I hurt, and bounce and hurt again. It's always exciting and you know that you have to, have to haveto lovethem. Because it is crackling feeling alive it is real and you can't help it. That is why when I said "I don't know, I just can't help it" It was a compliment and it would have made my shiny superficial hollow heart soar, and fill up to the brim with liquid pink crackling energy and that slippery, ephemeral light that I was trying so hard to catch in the bathroom. Because I HAD to, because I was driven by these crazy crazy crackling things that make it worth anything. And it is these that feel scratchy real against the skin, that glide, sloppily down your face when you cry and glue your hair to your skin, and blur and fizzle vision. It isn't hard to feel inadequate and overwhelmed when surrounded by those hidden, strongish people who are beautiful and they know very much how to live life, even if it is only their life and they aren't scared to be them and they don't copy and make themselves up in little pieces from other people's personalities. I cut you up and stitch you to my collective, collected self, but alas! I cannot be whole, unless in the presence of everyone I have ever met. It is hard, and I am insubstantial to say the least. There are too many beautiful people, but people as a whole are disgusting and selfish. It makes my bones ache and brain buzz and hum until I want to scrape everything out and analyse it. ANALYZE? Ican'tformsentencesproperly/

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

last * next