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4.28.01 - 11:05

i guess we've noticed what's happened over time here. we don't function in reality anymore. the abstract is far less threatening. fiction doesn't hurt. so for those of you who started out reading this to actually keep track of my day-to-day activities, i apologize, i guess. i'm not sorry for what this has become, but i'm sorry it no longer serves your purposes. well...a little bit sorry, anyway.

catatonia is not as good as cat power.

ow. it's pain and it's a yawning void all at once. there's little, if anything, that can be done. you can get used to pretty much anything if you're forced to put up with it for a while. it's the same with this. i guess knowing this doesn't make it any easier, really. you're still in there here and now, if we're playing in the paradigm where here and now are even truths. let's just say we are, it'll make things simpler and things are difficult enough right now. you just don't do certain things, like poking cranky sleeping dragons with sharp sticks. i don't have to explain that, you know, it's like, you just don't do it. there are other things that fall into this category.

she's the same but different. because there are some things that will never change. some things you can't change. memories. sometimes it's difficult to know how much distance lies between what's best and what makes someone happy. sometimes it's the same thing. sometimes happy is something transparent and cheap. sometimes happy is something hidden. sometimes never found. you don't look at medusa. well, you try not to, anyway.

but we're only human. that's why communism doesn't work out like it should, you know.

it feels like a void, like emptiness, but it's not, it can't be, it's exactly the opposite, it's a state of too-full, not enough room for everything inside. and every now and then it comes spilling out of your eyes, for some reason. it's so curious. i've never been able to figure it out. and now i'm watching you, watching your tears roll down your cheeks, back towards your lips. we know more than one way to swallow our tears, the way we know more than one way to spit them out. we know a very large amount of truly useless things.

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