written on a napkin in a cafe.

i hate:

how every day feels the same.
how redundancy leads me into every morning.
how i am holding hands with fear every night.
how futility is married to every thought.
the panicked feelings i'm well acquainted with.
the lack of motivation i have, in looking for motivation in any form.
how invisible i can feel.
when only the little things in life can bring smiles.
when i have low expectations.
nostalgia.
waking up to reality.
when the butterflies leave.
self-pity.
how. . . trapped i can feel.
that i can make a list, at all.

"have you ever tried to put a puzzle together facedown? it's difficult as you have nothing to work with. you may spend forever putting this puzzle together but in the end you glue it to a surface and can appreciate or trivialize all the effort you put into it. i like to think of people as facedown puzzles, you can spend all your time putting them together, or figuring them out and in the end appreciate them for who they are. it's a shame that puzzles drive me crazy." -myself

yes i do live, but only as a pale imitation of life. i'm just kind of lonely. memories can make me feel kind of lonely, some things are really hard to forget, and it's hard i guess to let everything go that easily. i can only hope that the old adage "time heals all wounds" proves true. because "absence makes the heart grow fonder" is somewhat unsettling in a certain case.

florida isn't so fun this time around, and neither will my uncle's funeral be later today. also, writing at 1:16 am. woo east coast time zone. le sigh.

the heart beats of its own accord. it lives independantly of your own desires. it kills you with its responses to things outside your control, to outside influences, to pain and to memories. i wish it would stop doing that. s***.