aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- moving past the feeling so can you understand it feels like a revelation every time, even though it's the same revelation i've been having for six years. (Six Years?!) stasis feels like death. "when i stop i'm gone." every month i learn a little more about what it takes to build something that will last and every month i want to push that something farther away i'm sick of drinking to excess, of mediocrity, of worthwhile work shoddily done, of irony, of forty degree weather, of disorganized papers, of organized papers, of official forms, of sugary drinks, of cold sandwiches, of missing you, of not doing anything about it, of thinking about doing something about it, of forgetting to think about doing something about it, of passive aggression, of carelessly inaccurate speech, of pedantically accurate speech, of coloring within the lines, of failing to color within the lines, of lines, of colors, of dirt, of tar, of ash, of smoke, of fouled air, of clean air, of guilt, of smug senses of superiority, of insidious feelings of inferiority, of duality, of distaste for duality, of a compelling need for some unneeded third term, of the perfect wholeness of just two, of the nervous dangling of just one (even though every form of separation is but illusion), of driving, of walking, of standing, of sitting, of stability. running is the perfect expression of dynamic balance - only by falling in the proper way can we really get anywhere while pulling that sweet edgy burn fully inside you're gorgeous 11:51 p.m. - 2011-03-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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