LustingforNightmares

tumbleweed
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2018-02-05 14:23:28 (UTC)

suddenly verbose

"Smells Like Content" by The Books [reminds me a little of Mimicking Birds but weirder]

Most of all, the world is a place where parts of wholes are described
within an overarching paradigm of clarity and accuracy.
The context in which makes possible an underlying
sense of the way it all fits together,
despite our collective tendency not to conceive of it as such.

But then again, the world without end is a place where souls are combined,
but with an overbearing feeling of disparity, disorderliness.
To ignore it is impossible without getting oneself into all of kinds of trouble,
despite one’s best intentions to not get entangled with it so much.

And meanwhile,
the statues are bleeding green.
And others are saying things much better than we ever could;
as the quiet become suddenly verbose.

February 5, 2018 Monday 1:25 PM

I am sick-feeling today. My nose feels pinched up, like I've been in a swimming pool all morning and I can't shake the chlorinated water from my inner ears and the back of my throat. I woke up without trying at eight in the morning and tortured myself with thoughts until I couldn't stand it anymore. I was at breakfast by nine, and I felt okay and drank coffee and juice, but I was still under a heavy hand during calc. And I kept falling asleep. An acquaintance (possible-friend?) of mine, Maria, she said she saw me during class and said I looked very angry and squinty and this was because I was attempting to focus my vision. But no. I couldn't listen to my professor, even though I got 7 hours of sleep and drank half a cup of coffee. I could only attempt to merge him back into one person. I wonder what my notes look like. I most definitely fell asleep in biology, which I have right after calc. Maria was in that class too. She took a snapchat of me with my head down and it was called "Slumped," which I thought was satisfying in a way. But I was very tired, and I still kind of am.

I hung out with Moby yesterday and it was weird. On Saturday Kai, Moby, and I all got drunk on his big-ass bottle of vodka in Kai's room. And we danced. And then we cried (well, me and Kai cried). And then we danced again. We also spilled water on her floor twice. It is unfortunate that I was so nice to Moby that night. Not unfortunate for him, but for me, because I am vaguely embarrassed and kind of angry that I can't muster up the words whilst sober. I don't want alcohol to have the power of truth, you know? But I guess it just does. That's in its nature.

My skin is tingling softly.

Well, yesterday I told Moby that I really liked him. This was after we spent a few hours in his bed just smooshed together alternating between watching Community and checking the Superbowl score. We didn't talk much, and I was preferred that. I felt off somehow. And I felt he was off, but I think he was just waiting. We were awkward when we talked about it and I hope we get past this. I like it better when we are just... chill. But he still has questions, because we were studying in Arnold just now and he asked me, "So does this mean you—still don't know or...—is that..." He was asking if I like him back or if I still need more time to think about it. Which I don't. I think I like him. I understand that he needed more clarity, though. I was pretty short when I told him, because that kind of stuff inspires an emotional constipation in me. I swear to god, I start to float away from my own body, I start to develop an indifference and a dizziness, a desperate attempt to escape my own body my own actions the consequences of what I say and what he does.

He also asked that we not put any labels on this right now. Which I am very okay with. He is just Moby, I guess. I wonder why he is asking that—god, I should have asked him. Because now I think it is because he is suddenly unsure. But whatever. I don't really have the energy to overthink this anymore. I know I wouldn't be shattered if he changed his mind. We'd still be friends and things would be okay.

I'm tired. So tired today.

I have an appointment with Lancelot tomorrow. My first day of work is on Saturday. And that's been my life. Pretty good—I feel good. Uncertain, exhausted, but pretty good. Better than home at least. Okay I should get started on Wuthering Heights reading for today.



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