This is it. It has to be, it seems impossible to carry it on. Not only impossible, but embarrassing and gutwrenchingly hurtful. It forces me to wonder whether the instrument that seems to be scooping and scraping out my insides, the darkest, warmest centre of me is laced, looped or spiced, with malice. It's always been too hard to tell what this was. Confusion, ignorance, naivety or malignance. It is too far gone and peeled away by so many layers, it is barely even there. It is time, isn't it, to stop believing for everyone else, or thinking., doing. it stops.

"I've been walking around amazed at all the colour and the chaos. I love chaos. I don't love confusion. I don't love missing people and I don't like that people aren't there to find, or find me. I like the freedom, although it scares me a little, and it just etches it in harder that I'm being forced to grow up, and that it's a good thing. The security has been pulled out from under our feet, but I don't know if we've realised we're on the floor yet. I don't think I should lament that we're losing it, because we are and we know it. It's just an evolution that's all. Maybe I thought I'd found it, something I'd been waiting for and now its all disintergrating as we watch, I don't know. I'm detatched from everything; why? Because I'm floating around on freedom or colour or dizziness, I don't know. I'm grabbing at things, but I think it's in vain and I'm losing my grip, like I can't see, I'm temporarily blind but I don't really know why. Do you think that we were ever a whole, and that now we are cut up, we are wandering around with big gaping holes in us because there is part of us missing? No, probably not, although I guess I'd like to think so.

I think I'm still wandering around looking for the rest of me and the other puzzle I fit"


Feeling: annoyed that i didn't finish 'the merchant of venice'
Listening to: nothing. everyone seems quiet tonight
Pretending: i will read it all before tomorrow?