THERE IS BLOOD BUBBLING IN MY FOOT! I CAN FEEL IT! Everything is closed off, everyone is asleep, I am tired of every single exact thing being documented, it provokes you into an appreciation of ghostliness, disappearance, I envy it. Absurdly, being prevented from my longed for, painful, joyful extravagances by the unlikeliest person - suggests an attachment that I should do my best to clamber out of. It is odd, it is strange. And stupid arguments, or non-arguments have taken stranglehold, I am scared to be out, right now. I do not think my (alas, again postponed London/Bwater trip will happen Monday, not after all these things. Did things get sorted out? I forget who I am writing to. No one, no one at all. It makes me sick, but I spent 14 hours in bed, and I don't want to have to get up at nine tomorrow. Too many pointless things to do. Relatives and pretend friends. I DON'T KNOW YOU and I'm JUST A LITTLE SCARED. I don't really know why I'm here, or what I'm talking about.
The look on your face, your annoyance at my questions and my reasoning, my continued belief that, Hm, maybe I'm not real after all, all serve a point. But what? You're tired of me.


Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

last * next