Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 104 But we were gonna be the wildest, the wildest, the wildest people they ever hoped to see When I take my shoes off from coming inside, my socks creep down so that there�s an inch of free space at the end of my toes. It�s funny that I can compose things outside with a cigarette between my fingers, and as soon as this box opens up, my brain shuts off. I go back to the numb I feel most of the day lately. It�s easy for me to be fun, and funny, but I�m really not feeling anything underneath. There was this point yesterday while I was sitting under the gun that my eyes went half mast, and everything was perfect. That hum, and the pain, watching the color spread out over my skin without blood mixing, the rhythm of wiping away the ink, the gun going back to work, and the look of concentration on her face. It was the closest I�ve ever come to meditating. Then the perfect picture coming from that, in black, skin raised. Afterwards I always wonder why my entire body isn�t covered. (This is where I go back outside) There�s this problem with my theories of life, and it�s finally come to a cross roads of sorts. I believe life is moments of perfection strung together with the mundane. And, the everyday bullshit is the price for those moments. At the same time, there must be something more fulfilling than my parents� life. Because that�s what we�re all living, regardless of what lies you want to tell yourself. Sure, we wait until later in life to have children, get married... but I�m working dead, just like my parents before me. There just has to be something more. I want that feeling of anticipation to mount into a discovery. I want to be good at something. I�m sitting with this heavy feeling of finality. I know this time here is over, and I�m waiting for the place to go, as though it�s going to send me an email telling me it has a job and an apartment for me. Montana and I know that we�re through, but maybe we�re hanging on for the security. Where else can I have this quality of life for so little effort? I don�t have to make friends, or try to fit in, because I�ve lost my taste for that. Importantly, I�ve lost my desire for some kind of partnership. I�m done with wanting and waiting. When ever he�s ready, he�ll come around, and there�s nothing I can do to speed it up, or hurry it along. Better than that, as lonely as I am, I know I want to be alone. Of course, that is subject to change when I climb into bed and I need a blanket to keep me warm. I don�t remember you ever telling me that I was beautiful. Yeah, we�re such crazy babies, little monkey 7:12 p.m. - 2002-11-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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