I. Anolis calimae, new species,
from the - cloud forest of western Columbia
And it is all they are, air and meaning nothing. Because I do not matter, and so to me they must not either. Should I even bother saying otherwise? It's always there, and it's conducive to the former. So I must eat them like air. No reason, surgical and pure pleasure, sometimes. Because you hate it and because it's revenge on you, and I always hated revenge, jealousy. Soon you won't care, maybe you don't know. It's okay, because you came too close. You meant too much, and you found out, and you can't know, because. So I have to do this, and sometimes it's okay, except. Except today I felt so superfluous, hanging onto a fringe of something good, that I can't get into anymore, though sometimes I don't really want to. Where else is there to go?
"Each cut, each scar, each burn, a different mood or time. I told him what the first one was, told him where the second one came from. I remembered them all. And for the first time in my life I felt beautiful." It sounds like a good film.
I hate being told what to do.
Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending: