and now, once more with feeling..

1. i am quite often crying and getting hurt because of my love. and his selfish and rude actions.

2. i am writing in my book slowly. sick makes everything slower, sharper. movement aches, and i understand completely now that we live in pain 100%. our bodies feed off it, and if it's the right kind of pain, we go love crazy over it.

3. but i find that a little irrelevent when it comes to living, breathing in this world every day. it is one thing considering it, and another to act in it. we do not live in philosophy married to poetry, we contemplate it while living.

4. you can't weave your way out of this, just because you're having a shit time and you love to have some stupid little air of mystique surrounding you.

5. one word. COPOUT.

6. i'm starting (again) to get less afraid of the sensitive prying eyes that read this. people who will give me verbal feedback and unnecessary commentary. don't take it too much to heart. i'm trying to tell you something. if you get defensive, you're not going to hear me.

7. don't think i'm just writing about you. i'm writing about a lot of other people.

8. as usual, night is lonely. i look forward to another night of late night movies. i wish i could read a book, or do something constructive. but the headaches and various other aches make it impossible.

9. consider this.