5.8.01 - 8:19

it would be easier if the world were really round, you know. ugh. what's your deal? nothing.

of course things would be a lot easier if we could be in charge of everything. one morning she woke up and hit snooze and thought, the world would be a much better place if only everyone were like me. oh, sure it all matters. but in such an unimportant way. fly away, sweet bird of prey, fly, fly away, nothing can stand in your way, sweet bird, if you knew the words, i know that you'd say, fly, fly away.

it makes sense that it should hurt in this way. except it doesn't. it never does. that's why they write songs about this sort of feeling, you know. people get to thinking if they can just put this mess to music...whatever. it doesn't fix anything. there was this old, old path and he walked on it every day and slept on it every night. i am convinced, he said, that this path will lead me to the edge of the world. oh, goodness. do you remember where the sidewalk ends? and then one day there wasn't any more path but he wasn't at the edge of the world. the sky was red and he got up and turned around and went home, thinking, that was a waste of time, and also, that was the most fun i've ever had. it's possible to feel both ways.

the problem with amputated limbs, well, one, anyway, is the issue of phantom pains. i can't imagine that i'd handle that very well, she thought. after all, it feels like there's enough pain right here, right now. i don't think i can deal with it hurting in places that don't even exist. oh, but you hurt in places that don't exist all the time, he said. there was quiet and she waited for more, but there wasn't more because he would say this kind of thing without any sort of explanatory note because it was like he'd just run out of words.

or something.

she liked quiet a lot but she had a habit of saying, this, oh, this is the calm before the storm. even when she knew the storm would never come.

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