someone please explain to me my need for self destruction. and while you're at it, tell me why i always go one further than needed.
the unavailable, it's always been. never have i thought of one when there was a chance. chances scare me. as do most things in life, apparently. i could see a future with any of them, did you know? all that's needed is a smidgen of imagination. there's something special about each, but it all comes right back to me anyhow - whether it's things we both love, or enjoy, or laugh at. or whether i am the one courted and wooed by one with whom there's nothing in common. confusion is a natural state of mind. and the long nights are helping.
as is fiona.
i think a lot more when i'm working. or supposed to be working. all my best writing has been done when my head and mind and body refused to sit down and complete the load of work looming overhead. and the wildest writing was always for boys. let's face it - the two of them effectively destroyed my concentration. no, wait. let's not blame them, the fault was all mine. the fault has always been mine. and that makes it harder to fix than otherwise. blame and guilt on either side of this equation. radiohead now. sections to do, and a model to complete, and printing to be done as well. and all i can do is think of one and two and three and four. each seems to lead to the other (only that one is always ready to leap out into my head. so is three lately. and i will keep thinking, what does it all mean?), and then comes five. stops there unless i press, and then the whole gamut of them will come thundering into my head and i will think again about how odd the world is, and how wonderful, and why there is no one for me.
the unavailable, it's always been. never have i thought of one when there was a chance. chances scare me. as do most things in life, apparently. i could see a future with any of them, did you know? all that's needed is a smidgen of imagination. there's something special about each, but it all comes right back to me anyhow - whether it's things we both love, or enjoy, or laugh at. or whether i am the one courted and wooed by one with whom there's nothing in common. confusion is a natural state of mind. and the long nights are helping.
as is fiona.
i think a lot more when i'm working. or supposed to be working. all my best writing has been done when my head and mind and body refused to sit down and complete the load of work looming overhead. and the wildest writing was always for boys. let's face it - the two of them effectively destroyed my concentration. no, wait. let's not blame them, the fault was all mine. the fault has always been mine. and that makes it harder to fix than otherwise. blame and guilt on either side of this equation. radiohead now. sections to do, and a model to complete, and printing to be done as well. and all i can do is think of one and two and three and four. each seems to lead to the other (only that one is always ready to leap out into my head. so is three lately. and i will keep thinking, what does it all mean?), and then comes five. stops there unless i press, and then the whole gamut of them will come thundering into my head and i will think again about how odd the world is, and how wonderful, and why there is no one for me.
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