2003-09-01 15:13:51 (UTC)

another restless night

September 1st, 2003, 8 am

I hate him affectionately. He coaxes me as though I were a
frightened wild animal he's tricking into trusting him only
so he can capture me and tie me up.
He asks, "what if this was OUR house?"
I say, "I'd move out. I'd sell all your furniture and buy a
ticket to Brazil. One ticket, one way."
He dominates me physically. I have a game of rejecting and
ignoring him to see him persue me anyway. It's a power
struggle. We're cruel to each other in ways. I am not one
for sentimentality. I am not a romantic in that sense of
the word.
I can't explain why I'm doing this. I am too sensitive to
behave this way.
I'll save contemplation and reflection for my sub-concious
dreams at night. This is the active, reckless, perhaps even
hedonistic phase of my life. I see that it is beginning and
it is inevitable. I'm going to become lost and consumed in
sensations. And I don't want to withdraw. I don't want
to hide. I want to devour these experiences as they come,
painful as they are, shattering and destructive as they
are. Because it's life. My most intense fear at this moment
is missing out on life, even life's sufferings and empty
I see this change in myself. My eyes are less bright,
darker and beautifully sad, deeper at sea.
Something I wrote early this summer and just found-
letting the seawater form rivers in the lines beneath those
wide tense eyes, salty purification sliding about the
surface and into the caves of those eyes, blindfolded and
with the past biting malicously at her heels, a frantic
neglected past, she walks forward, slowly, gracefully,
unconciously- wandering.

Love, Demetra