She would have been a good woman...

If there had been someone there to shoot her every minute of her life.

Disillusioned to the point of destruction

FUCK

I'm so in love with you it makes me hate you.

All her life she's been drawn to certain kinds of people. i don't know whether or not you could tell from the outside, or even the near inside. why does she connect so intensely with all of them? spirituality & love.

yet she gets thrown off course so often. her life seems unsustainable, her relationships stunted. maybe because of the imprudent belief that if she acted this way, did this, said that, wore these, she would become worthy. it will procure love from these people. & she will never be alone.

& then she craves solitude like water, air. her whole life has been an effort to create a galaxy of people who adore her. then her sadness seems to evolve from misunderstandings & assumptions she is unaware of. she knows she created them. unconsciously, she says. self-destructive is more likely.

she's never felt god, guardian angels, other-worldly spirituality. alone she can only feel her own biology. breath, blood, cells. headache. congestion. hangover. empathy. envy. pain. she feels everything but inspiration. she feels no guide, only her own sense. so far it's been enough.

she is in love. but she has an inherent distrust of love. she has no idea where that's come from; her parents have been happily, if a-typically married for 30 years. never been cheated on, never abused in any way, never anything but adored.

she just wants bliss. a sustainable bliss. no drug has found it for her. love brings it closer, but it's still out of reach, always fleeting. aesthetics help, beautiful things, beautiful feelings, touches, tastes, sounds, lights, movements, words, clothes, sentences, people, thoughts, meanings, art, music, books. it's all come so close.

she minors in history of art and architecture at her university. she majors in english literature. everyone has always asked why. 'it's the only thing i'm good at, the only subject i ever enjoyed.' which is true.

but why.

it's her search for ultimate bliss. if she could just read enough literature, acquire enough images. understand their meanings, feelings, aspirations. it's the closest she's ever felt to a god, to a guardian angel, to inspiration.

so she will dedicate her life to it.

the worst has happened

romantic love is like a mental illness, although an enjoyable one.

i'd rather find meaning. he'd rather find bliss.

god bless the dj

i sleep better now. excited about dat. junior now. a little cited. taken now. eh.

everything changes so fast. a hundred years of happiness can be erased in a single second but it's worth it.

i wish i could float higher than everything for a bit. i hope i will one day know what the fuck was really going on this whole time.

"i think after you die is like before you were born."

murs/slug/aesop

there isnt much as unsatisfying as the blind man listening believening the one thats lying

what could you possibly know about how the world works?

this is a small thing & it's probably boring for you, but it would have been nice if you'd made an effort to know vic.

who's vic?

my son.

oh, victor? i didn't recognize the diminutive.

.

.

you won't acknowledge your own shit. & you were fucked up all the time

.

.

it's kind of trite, but it stuck with me

ha, this one's about alcohol too

i'm so sleep deprived i'm hearing shit. music sounds slower.

thoughts scattered all across the gray matter.

doesn't want to understand why you still come around.

just an eleven letter word.

never sick of listening to yourr problems.

second day in a row ivebeen on the phone with you while the sun rose.

life is better with a poor memory.

ray opens in 1/2 hr.

sprinkles of dopeness dispersed.

i don't care if you know me or you hate me.

what you got to say is irrelevant if you're just talking for the hell of it. i smell some shit, check your soul.

------ remember that time that i made you so mad?