ecappaccino's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 327 - closer
I am going over an old journal (or two). I do this when I'm bored sometimes. I used to live less internally - notice more details. Reading journals I have now is an almost pointless exercise. On the other hand, I am slightly fascinated by a history that I have thoughtlessly shoved aside in plastic bags, hidden somewhere nobody can see. I am trying to find the root of something. In the process I dig up many things. For instance I rediscover that I almost leave time and time and time again - at first very frequently declaring everything severed. Later, with less and less resolution; energy. It begins with the period just before my sixteenth birthday when I had started to feel uneasy. The one thought: I'll never see her again, walking you/her away. Still. The clarity of that moment was startling. It was a really ominous thought, like a theatrical technique - someone had written it into me, foreshadowing. I had never had that happen to me before. It felt like fortunetelling. I went inside and began to cry. A short progression later - by which I mean after many months had passed, and a
string of small agonies later...I find I had written : "For
the time I believed in perfection, everything seemed perfect. And then once I
stopped believing, nothing was right again." My room smells like Georgio Armani, Givenchy and Calvin Klein. 11:37 pm - 01-21-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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