i can go. with the flow. |
2003-12-16 - 9:35 p.m.
here is an open invitation to climb inside my head and stay there for a while to hear the thoughts the way i hear them. to understand things the way i do. to understand me.
i would settle at being talented with just one thing. an area of expertise. an area where i can excel. so that people will think of me as talented. as standing out from the crowd.
i slept with his shirt last night
molecules of him entering me
entering from mouth to mouth
_______ to _______.
entering me, intertwining with my own body composition
slowly making me whole.//complete\
every kiss, every ____. every interaction that fills me with him/him with me/brings us closer together.
i wish i could spill my tears onto this paper and hope you could read my emotions because i cannot word them properly.
once i close this book, i get ideas. opening it sends thoughts scattering.
set this place on fire
yesterday was the day that i was alone
i'm tired of being contained in these walls that are assembled in the form of my home. the colors that are the same. the routines that are the same.
i'm tired of being contained in these walls that are assembled in the form of my brain.
the thoughts are the same. the output is the same.
i liked it better when i was alone.
i liked it better when i was ?????.
i want us to live together
i want to spend lazy days inside doing nothing but laying together and laughing because really that's where my happiness comes from. being gathered up by you and the touching holding feeling that is you the laughter beauty amazement that is you. i want to watch you draw these pictures that i know you can draw. the movement of your hands as they produce your ideas onto the paper. i want to put words to those pictures. i want to hang them all over our home. our our our
hours hours i want to spend hours with you. every hour of every day. i do anyway, you know. if it's not physically, it's mentally.
surround me as i speak.
i can't write anything great if i try.
even if i'm not trying & it just flows, after rereading it still sounds like drivel.
the connection to my brain is malfunctioning like this connection from the stereo to my headphones. not perfect. nothing's perfect.
copy and paste copy and paste
i type in notepad to try to fool myself into believing this is just typing to waste time. just for myself, not for other people.
StopCallinMeEmo: who are you writing for. us or you
adaftapeth: i'm not sure.
StopCallinMeEmo: well make it be you, and make sure you're sure.
adaftapeth: i pretend me, but in the back of my head i think i'm wrong.
adaftapeth: i think i started out me, but drifted to we.
i can't continue.
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