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post #209
bio: kristen
perma-link
9/18/2005
19:15

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Dutch Ultimatum
The Ludditette
Friday Party #347
The Wizard of Uz
Taking One 4 the Team
Leap and the Net Will Appear



This lonliness that we all have inside of us is flooring. We try so many things in order to be someone that someone will love. This usually compromises our being understood, but to most of us that compromise is minimal.

Shall I write of dragons and princesses? I'm always a stone's throw away from abject terror. Is this normal? I think of how duped I was and feel totally the fool. I can't quite back away from this yet. My perceptions, however, are making themselves real. What could come around . What could make a difference to me now? Nothing could bring me down. I feel the need for an audience of more than one. Isn't this ridiculous? My fuel is out. I'm in the video game with no vitality left. Kent was so weird to me. My comparisons are killing me. I see everyone in a better life than me. It was so surreal to be stoned with greg that day. Actually, there were many times that reality seemed elusive to me. I felt that I loved everyone distinctly. I lost myself in self-indulgence.

What in my life isn't self-indulgent these days? Is it a gift to be with mark? Is he getting any prize? I doubt he would think so. I'm very confused to what he sees in me at all... what anyone sees in me unless they are all being nice to the crazy girl so she won't go running off into the woods.

I precisely do want to run into the woods though. I want to have a house by myself and work and live. This too is a fantasy. I think I would write in this fantasy environment. I think I would be contented to live in Wilmington by myself and wait for Mark to return. Is this what love is? Do I love the sangha too much and am afraid to create a new one? Who the fuck knows. Eh?

Where are all my words of courage and my good thoughts. These are what I need. I am amazing. I believe in myself. I will create. I am creating. I am viable. I am loveable.

Jungle and John Macintyre around the corner as I was being hauled into a police car to go to a mental hospital.

These things are indelible.

Art.

Between the things you say and the things I see.

This is a day that the whore cries.

Of course I know that the door could open at any minute, and this tempers my one-citizen play.



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