I just had a pang that was long forgotten and oh so familiar... like family really:
this pang was an odd waft of wilmington - morphed into a magical stab - and here I am writing to you - trying to release the energy by dissipating it and looking at it and knowing I have to tell.
I am so alone - so far away - so distant.
Yes, I know, you love me. You love me and would do anything for me.
Yet I am talking of a long, long, long, time.
Again, I will note that your body perfectly reflects your state of mind. You are what you think.
After weeks of clear sailing, I have three/four major spots on my face.
do you really love me? do you really, be bold and let the mask down.
Don't you realize? it's the first and only thing I'll ask.
You think it's because I cheat and I'll never be happy with any man - and you sigh and realize how right you were about me. You'll beat yourself up and declare the pain of doing this to yourself -because you knew that you were doomed.
I am the cheater. I am the person to whom the rocks are lobbed. I am the arrogant one who flaunts my desirability like a cow come to market. madonna/whore.
Oh the guilt of it all. I think it's only just asleep at this very moment.
in many ways you have forgotten the times I begged you to be yourself - to show me. emote.
i couldn't do it. that's my part.
it's very painful. no one goes into it thinking that it has an end. Everyone starts it with "oh yes, yes, yes, yes! yes!.... thank you gods of everything".
What the fuck am I saying?
Well off to carry the invisible bags around whilst the invisible cross mit thorns in invisible tow.