Sunday, October 07, 2007
I wish I could tell you how I feel. You being an imaginary person, you being a subjective word. You because there is no you. But I cant, I cant because you cant let out things that you dont know. And thats exactly how it is. I dont know what I feel."It was like sawdust, the unhapiness: it is infiltrated everything, everything was a problem, everything made her cry- school, homework, boyfriends, the future, the lack of future, the uncertainty of future, fear of future, fear in general- but it was so hard to say exactly what the problem was in the first place." (The Dead girl)But its not unhapiness, its not disappointment, its nor frustration, its not anger. Its something, a something that began with nothing. And there's nothing I hate more than nothing. Nothing keeps me up at night.
*Finding solace.