iamsoafraidofdying
iamsoafraid it will be OK
do something
dosomething
dosomething
it will be OK
it will beOK
dosomething
I am soafraidofdying
I am soafraid
I am I am iam iami?
249-252
29 November 2013
25 November 2013
I KNEW IT, I WAS FREE, I WAS THERE.
five minutes of dreams and i'm resting my head in your lap on the couch. the one that i burned with a hairdryer when it was first new, sorry. you're reading me that scary story about the witch with twigs for hair and a cave for a home who sold marmalade. or maybe you're explaining shakespeare to me. i knew it, i was free, i was there.
i liked the way you impulsively painted the bathroom with periwinkle stripes. the way you crush your christmas candy cane and eat its crumbs with a spoon out of a bowl. the way you seem to consistently finish the last piece of other people's puzzles, despite angering them, you find it funny, and so do i. not to mention the passion with which you built my history project, quilt me beautiful warmth, and paint my life with such scenery.
and i especially love the contrast between you telling me if anyone ever hurt me, to punch them, yet you watch almost every television show with tissues in hand to wipe clean your crying eyes. there is such beauty in your range of emotions, and how they are subtle and sound when i need someone strong, yet the most mundane things can create such feeling in you. there is such beauty in your ability to let the world fully take hold of you, and how you can find yourself in any story.
there is such beauty in how you're so delicate, but so tough, and i love you.
i liked the way you impulsively painted the bathroom with periwinkle stripes. the way you crush your christmas candy cane and eat its crumbs with a spoon out of a bowl. the way you seem to consistently finish the last piece of other people's puzzles, despite angering them, you find it funny, and so do i. not to mention the passion with which you built my history project, quilt me beautiful warmth, and paint my life with such scenery.
and i especially love the contrast between you telling me if anyone ever hurt me, to punch them, yet you watch almost every television show with tissues in hand to wipe clean your crying eyes. there is such beauty in your range of emotions, and how they are subtle and sound when i need someone strong, yet the most mundane things can create such feeling in you. there is such beauty in your ability to let the world fully take hold of you, and how you can find yourself in any story.
there is such beauty in how you're so delicate, but so tough, and i love you.
24 November 2013
besides i love you
we are in poland, it is your birthday. you are drunk, and so am i. it is terribly cold, and everything is terribly polish. i forgot my gloves at the hostel. we walk together to a bar somewhere. all of us. but i walk nearest to you. my hands are frozen. i probably say this aloud. i put my hand in your coat pocket where your hand was. so i hold it. and i say i feel better this way. and we walk holding hands in your pocket. and later you'll be crying about being old and i'll kiss your face.
i'll say everything's going to be ok.
we are in poland, it is your birthday. you are drunk, and so am i. it is terribly cold, and everything is terribly polish. i forgot my gloves at the hostel. we walk together to a bar somewhere. all of us. but i walk nearest to you. my hands are frozen. i probably say this aloud. i put my hand in your coat pocket where your hand was. so i hold it. and i say i feel better this way. and we walk holding hands in your pocket. and later you'll be crying about being old and i'll kiss your face.
i'll say everything's going to be ok.
18 November 2013
FEELINGS FROM THIS NOVEMBER
the harshness of the final fight because it really does not get easier. i've held onto empty bottles of european products for the mere sake of something tangible. i really did live this, and it really was. (but my conscious self, it cannot believe it anymore.) all of these meaningless spanish and swedish beauty products are just nonsense taking up space under my bathroom sink, but i can't bring myself to throw them out. it all feels like a dream that i can't remember any details of. "and now you can't even recall any of the names, faces, or lines, it's more the feeling of it all." i'll read the fine swedish print on the bottle. i read this for six fucking months. these combinations of characters that i didn't even take notice of after some time, which i'm now clinging to as if it is a vital organ.
EVERY DAMN GOOD THING IN THIS WORLD IS SOMETHING WHICH ISN'T TANGIBLE.
and that's what makes it so difficult
to feel,
see,
to understand,
so hard to love,
appreciate,
and to scream about
anything of importance
these important things, well, they cannot be contained in glass jars, neither pressed into an overflowing suitcase, neither plastered to a wall, neither preserved in paint, nor written in a journal. they have to be felt, seen, understood. loved, appreciated, and screamed about in the moment they occur. because now they are over. smells of smiles so faded, dumb photographs on my wall, drunken signatures sprinkled across a world map, forgotten voices and dispositions of people i love. there's nothing left besides paralysis from empty feelings and empty bottles.
EVERY DAMN GOOD THING IN THIS WORLD IS SOMETHING WHICH ISN'T TANGIBLE.
and that's what makes it so difficult
to feel,
see,
to understand,
so hard to love,
appreciate,
and to scream about
anything of importance
these important things, well, they cannot be contained in glass jars, neither pressed into an overflowing suitcase, neither plastered to a wall, neither preserved in paint, nor written in a journal. they have to be felt, seen, understood. loved, appreciated, and screamed about in the moment they occur. because now they are over. smells of smiles so faded, dumb photographs on my wall, drunken signatures sprinkled across a world map, forgotten voices and dispositions of people i love. there's nothing left besides paralysis from empty feelings and empty bottles.
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