aosid's Diaryland Diary

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an upset

it strikes me as completely absurd just how far the people i know have gone in five-and-a-half years. when i say "the people i know", i'm mostly talking about myself and about the girls i've loved (now women i don't know).

(PSSST: i've been drinking again)

and that's probably the core of it. i'm talking about myself. where the hell did i (little sixteen years old i) disappear? i know i didn't pick up on my characteristic habits gradually - the events were singular and marked. a simulation:

day (n - 1): my, these scholarly pursuits are rigorous and exciting
day (n): alcohol? sounds dangerous and exciting
day (n + 1): where's my goddamn cigarette?

dissolved in alcohol. i honestly love the sensation: like, full on love. it's a little frightening (is that you, sixteen-me?) but so thoroughly comforting. that is comfort, to have a love that isn't a gamble.

"when i grow up, i want to live near the sea,
crab claws and bottles of rum"

can you really, sincerely judge someone for wanting to be happy? it hurts when sean dismisses chemicals without a hint of his usual responsibility: just because a drug arises in your brain naturally doesn't make it more worthy. the entire world scares me. this drink makes me stop fearing for an hour or two. how can you demonize respite? there are times i want to just hug chynna and fall asleep and she understands

i'm reading old words. i'm a little sorry that they're yours (magnets are temperamental.. they ate my old words, which would have otherwise been quite edifying) i still fall for them, just like i did at the time. why do i even do this? stupid stupid i guess that's my drunken theme word.

i'm sure i came here for a reason. a sentence.. i had to have had a sentence. even in my infantile state i manipulate complex tenses with ease without peaking at the arbitrary arrangement of the letters beneath my fingers. try this one:

i can't pretend that i have something to offer
but i could lie neath your warding arms and be still
and babbling and stumbling as i am now
i can only wish that that is an acceptable gift

i just wanted to hold your hand - ten seconds of unadulterated truth before we had to put our fancy lives back on.

every (EVERY) time i drive past that stretch of road, i hear your voice, worn thin by tears: a long silence, then "i love you."

sometimes i even pull over and cry a bit in my own cheap repressed way

2:34 a.m. - 2010-01-22

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