majorcollider

I want to start my project. I want to contain my anxieties about it, about what people would think, and laugh, and smirk silently. I want to do that. So I am doing something that is going forwards. I want to stop being sad. I want to stop that. I am sad, I guess.

Don't you ever feel like the wrong end of the magnet, that that you are positive, and everyone else is negative. And they are meeting in book stores, and in violence, and in plastic cups. And they all ignite a little spark, and you can feel it all around you. The more you look, the more sparks there are to feel. And for once, you wish everything was still. But that is bad, because how can you hope for happiness, if you deny others theirs. I always struggle with that. I hate myself for that. Because I really do only ever wish you well. But my own wells are all drained.

Too fucking slow. Too warped. Too ragged. They pass, and my fingertips repel them. I couldn't get any closer.