Mad Girl's Love Song
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Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
I am afraid that this is another one of my ‘great ideas’ that I get bored of after a while: writing as a career. It’s certainly not elaborate or far-fetched but the initial high has worn off and now I feel the same as always: scared, hopeless. Living always within the world in my head. I can never accept reality, never fully, my mind doesn’t let me; it slips off, drifts, into the unknown without my watchful eye. I want a nice safe place to go to, a home, with all my favorite people there all the time and all I would have to do and all anyone would have to do is just be. Just be together.
Thursday February 9th
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