There is a little to write, because I eloquently explained today, down twisted paths that have memories spattered all over them, that I have no personality and it is a slice, through the middle of my head, in fact, my whole body that is missing. You only feel the lack of it, that's why you don't get it. You were right! And now I am a medication taking automatron, except not really. Still, they work and I am not sad anymore, I just don't think. I can't think! Instead I vomit words like this. I am sick of myself, I want to turn myself inside out and maybe start again. I'm not sad, I am not anything. I am a vehicle for emotions, like I say and spout out these words. That is why you are constantly angry at me, because I am incapable, somewhat, of pretending anymore. Incapable certainly of keeping up any form of charade like I used to. You are always on my mind. I don't understand! I am emptying out my brain, I am resolutely making a decision. I am? I AM. I am not going to hide my feelings anymore, and I will do what I want. Except we know it isn't true, that I will bend and hide and squirm under your gaze. I will see you from some far off corner, and my heart will explode inside my chest and I will double up or just cry. That is what happens. A new beginning.,, I don't think so, just a failed one. And I'm the optimist! At any rate, not the existentialist. I hate the fact that our lives are so separate now, not entwined anymore. Nor are our bodies, but that's a different matter, and they haven't been for a long time. Shall I apply this to how many of my friends? Friends that I lost or hurt or convinced they were better off leaving. It's my fault, I know, I know! I just don't know how to fix this mess, or any mess. You hate me because I live in a mess. I am confused, as to how people can have any right to opinions. When no one knows anything (says I) or when one person knows everything (Steve, says Steve) and I am confused, because there are no lines, and EVERYTHING, everything has some implicit degree of meaning, it must have, and I don't understand, or I forget this other reasoning. If someone understood this and felt like they knew exactly the same thing, even if they didn't know me, I'd marry them. I'm tired. I always watch the little hum of your typed name in the corner of my screen, and I still get sad everytime it disappears. I'm silly. I have so much work to do! I am going to see Ewan McGregor again. I'm so lucky! And he's pretty. I am attempting escape from so many dreadful things, some beautiful however. And I'm holding onto, for a few other beautiful things. Can't fucking please you. I TRIED.
I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME MORE THAN THIS.

The next time we have a night picnic; let's have CHOCOLATE + RUM + COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF DRUGS.

"You know what I think about when I'm this close to another body? I think that one day at one moment..this body that I'm holding in my arms will stop breathing..stop living. Just. stop. One day you'll happen upon my name in the obits and you'll remember this moment when we were so close."


Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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