There is something in me that is not me. Or rather, is the most me. Is pure me. And “it” is always peering at me. At the physical me. Watching her, curious as to who she’s become, who she’ll become, who she was.
Past lives. Living is a crazy sensation. A “remarkable” sensation. Remarkable. My dreams are so vivid – I feel like they are part of my life. I miss how remarkable life felt when I was falling in love. Those moments were not of this earth. They were beyond cells and atoms.
I think about (bleeped out) a lot when I hear certain songs. I wasn’t in love with him, but he was my best friend, and we liked to enter into the same kind of world. I feel really badly for fading him out of my life. But all is in balance…at all times. Sometimes I feel really resentful of (bleeped out). I feel really caged when I think about him. Because everything is always about him. I feel mistreated, under appreciated, and taken for granted. The good times are just so good. But I’m not done making boys fall in love with me. It’s my favorite hobby, and I get bored easily, and I’m bored.
Very bored.