July 21, 2015 Tuesday 1:52 PM
This is a mess. There was a path between each one, but by the time I read this myself, I'll probably have forgotten.
Artificial happiness? Manufactured by caffeine.
Complete sentences are not my friend today. I might use them anyway, they follow me. I'm distracted and I don't quite feel like being as detailed as I usually am. I am not particularly concerned with preserving memory, not like I usually am. Maybe I will be, later.
Moon shirts. I am not a sagittarius.
I'm sentimental. Keeping things that remind me of people whom I'm not even sure I miss.
Papers in corners, in drawers, tucked in a shoebox in the back of my closet. Words and pictures and collages of people who I used to know and it's weird because sometimes I see myself from the outside, the way I think they do. I wonder if they think about how they used to know me and how I've changed. I don't feel so different, really. I just hope I am.
On top of a hill in a self-sufficient house, like in the first few pages of Thus Spoke Zarathustra.
I'm not smart enough to read that kind of thing, but I have a lot of interesting books lying around my house and sometimes I peek inside them. Preferably on sunny days when the snow is untouched.
I live in a library.
She'll be here soon, better bleed it out.
Or maybe she won't be here at all.
I like trees, especially in art.
Dad was in Newark, but he's gone now. New Jersey has never been my favorite place.
On top of a hill, alone, I guess. I think I'd work best that way. My only friend, no human contact, no reason to be unhappy.
I wonder how long it would take to become lonely.
I wonder if I could die up there as an old woman.
Maybe I could make soup. Like that lady in the children's book. Everyone would love me for that, and I wouldn't have to be any more than a cook.
I'm a lousy cook.
Air, air, air shiver.
Pictures, pictures. On the wall. Over every inch. Different people, a cast. Next to them, I hung a neckless with the crescent moon on it. I love those kinds of things. Reminds me. Makes me happy, and a little sad, too, but I try not to think about that last part.
Goosebumps, haha. I know what that means. I'll always know what that means, eh, future self?
Do you remember this? Do you remember.. you know. I don't want to say it. I'm tired of saying it. I'm tired of saying anything, really. It's much more fun to go around it.
I don't want to think about that anymore. Questions are good, not at this point.
This girl on the screen, she's pretty. I used to wish I looked like her. I still kind of wish it. In truth, I just wish... No.
I hide things without meaning to.
This is why I'd be better alone, I think. Sometimes, I hate the idea of people touching me. Sometimes, I think I'd need you to be a distant friend.
I don't know all the rules yet.
If they think I don't miss her (miss you, miss anyone, miss specific), they're wrong. I just don't want to show it. I hate the reaction. They're sorry, I know, they're sorry. So am I. I don't want to talk about it. I never want to talk about it. It didn't happen. It's all the same as it's always been.
Drawing lines from place to place. I kept forgetting the damn directions. The rest of the kids were listening the first time. They didn't even look up.
Drawings lines from here to way back there.
Am I going to hate this?
I meant to talk about the earrings. With trees on them. They're thin. Kind of delicate. I hung them by the pictures, with the moon necklace.
I love the moon and don't bother learning much about it. Just like everything else. I'm kind of an asshole. Even more so for being aware.
I'm learning the constellations. Orion in the sky. Wasn't he murdered by Artemis? Oh, look, I learned something.
I thought they belonged there. The earrings, I mean. I thought they belonged by the photos.
I might take down the rest, soon. I don't want questions, anymore.
One of Caroline's friends said, "is this art?" and I thought that was the most flattering thing he could've said and I just wish...
But if I didn't have to wish, that compliment wouldn't have occurred in the first place.
(does this make sense, future self? do you get it? does it really matter?)
I'll keep them in my room. Won't greet at the door anymore. Nothing does. Only the bells that have hung in the entryway for as long as I remember.
I miss the way it was before.
Not in a way that's unbearable, though. I'm still okay, if not confused. Avoiding, avoid.
What would I trade for the past?
What wouldn't I trade for the past?
Why can't I answer either question?
Click clack on the wood floor.
We've torn up the carpet and there is dust underfoot, as well as the occasional staple. It went into her foot and she frowned. I got her hydrogen peroxide. It's all okay, probably.
I wonder who is going to die first?
I wonder those things a lot.
I hope it's me.
But that's a horrible thing to wish upon someone who loves you so much. No, I think it's probably only fair that they all go first so it doesn't hurt them so much. I think I'll be alright alone. I can build ghosts.
New York: the color green.
Even in the winter.
Knobbly. Cold gathered in the cracks. The streets are so worn by the end of the year. When I was little, I still wandered to school, which was two blocks away.
Once, the winter was so strong that in the spring, I could see straight through the asphalt. All the way down the to the yellow cobblestone they had before cars rolled in.
Jesus. Gray is just fine. Streetlights will still shine on those, you know. It's not always dark here and the sky is recognizably blue.
We live on hills. The water tower kind of resembles an alien spaceship, if you imagine alien spaceships to be painted the color of cotton candy.
Also, a red smokestack and the strangely shaped silver bridge over the dirty river.
Most rivers are dirty.
Anyway, green. It's green and gray. Lots of water in this part of the country. Lots of variation.
I don't know, I'm not one for change. Maybe I should go somewhere with stable weather.
I still dream of going off alone. I'm sure I'd miss everyone, but I could always dream.
Now it's hot and I think I'm done.
I don't think I remembered the fairy wings. Too hard to explain anyway -- you probably didn't play girls soccer. They passed around the roll, you'd rip some off, tie it up, and use it as a headband. After games, I'd sit on the bus (alone, probably) and stretch it because when pulled apart, it looked like delicate wings.
Why the long face? :)
Goosebumps again. Let me know when it all levels out.
I'm in a good mood.
"Resenting people that I love," -Father John Misty
I quite like ambiguity.
Explanations are for losers (I'm a loser).
Make it up yourself.
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