I went walking after two last night; felt like I was the only guy in town.
And I'm not -- I know -- and I don't need you to tell me so.
I come here when I don't really know how to talk about anything, or what to say, or who to say it to. Sometimes I wish I could just do something crazy -- hit the road and keep on driving forever. I just want to disappear at times, but it's not something a doctor can fix. You can't make life easier, or make the bad things go away, or medicate me into savoring the good parts. People are so afraid of feelings and crying and difficulty and the hardships of human experience. I don't relish in them, certainly, but they're always there. They'll never go away. When we're children, we're happy and live freely because we're spared of those things, but we can't be free forever.
I need to write and hole myself up in my room for days and cry and cry and cry and cry forever because there's no sun and it's cold and I'm afraid of everything to come. I'm so proud of myself and so happy with who I am at times that when I'm not nice to myself I feel so torn. Spring needs to come, and then summer, and all the warmth and sun and water. I love my family so much, and my good, good friends, and Logan for being so good and beautiful and solid. I have these moments where things are so absurd they don't seem quite real, and all these people bring me back and hold me in their orbit until I can breathe again. Sometimes everyone seems so beautiful and good inside that I can't stop smiling, and other times everyone seems so hateful and angry and weary.
I want to swim in my clothes and swim in nothing at all and stay out until the street lamps come on enjoying the life I've been given. But I don't remember how to do that anymore.
that being said, i'm excited for Christmas, and i miss my friends greatly. making plans for the evening.
i've been thinking a lot about relationships, and how we try to shape people to fit our conception of them. i do it with friends, i do it with family, i've done it with him -- i build people up in my head and then make excuses for them when they disappoint me, instead of just accepting that people are people and that people, myself included, are innately disappointing and innately surprisingly and innately beautiful. i'm too much of a romantic, but it works for me.
i want everything to be beautiful and then i'm terrified when everything turns out to be very, very ugly. my expectations of everything and everyone are perhaps too high. sometimes i think i need to get in touch with the simplicity of things again, i don't know. i'm always so somber about things, especially when i put them down here, but i feel good and hopeful about my life.
The teeth of your black ditch are sweet like the rest
Of the thin-lipped, sharp-hipped
Fierce things that animals show --
White like the laughter of smoke in the chest
The brightness of the fields' teeth go.
The child-mother yells in vi'lent madness,
But your tight skin confessed not a vein in your chest
And the way that your breast did hang low.
Animals need animals before the winter comes.
The metal air swarms across those plains.
My long-necked, freckle-specked, heavy-chested, trust-invested sows her
breath into my chest and hums.
Now what kind of county line
Holds her remains?
Your grey frame in winter is delicately hued.
Your eyes are so wearisome:
The greens have all blued.
And what could it mean
That they once were so green,
And now they're just starving for food?
And I am hungry too
Can we discuss how much I love evil!Morgana? Goddamn.
oh my gosh, this gets right at the soft, squishy, nostalgic place in my heart.