"If they give you ruled paper, write the other way." -Juan Ramon Jiminez

Thursday, August 19, 2004

if i told you i loved you, would you write me a song?

I have never been very good at keeping things alive. Goldfish: they're hearty... they can take anything. Apparently not. Cacti: they don't need to be watered all too often... even a memory-challenged person like you can keep that alive. False. These examples, among others, have given me reason to believe that I may wind up killing Amaranth. I don't know how, but who can tell with these things? Amaranth. Born, before Chicas. Died, when Chicas came. Cause of death, Chicas. Inscription, Never Saw It Coming.

This summer has been crappy-ish. It's been mostly work, and I haven't spent time with half of the people I wanted to. The time I did spend with some people was too short. I need a vacation from this summer. I need a vacation from the calendar. From time. From Earth, and people. Sometimes I wish I could be invisible. Then I could sit and watch people without interruption. I could draw them without them being self conscious. I could write about them without having them hover over my shoulder, analyzing every syllable I write.

I wish I was the girl in the photograph I love so much. She looks so happy, her sweater looks comfy, I like her lip, and I want a good portrait like that of me.

Also, sometimes I wish people didn't care about my feelings as much as they say they do.

don't let me be misunderstood,


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