i was always exhausted by my dreams, not because of the dreams, but because of the fear of not being able to return.
~ anaïs nin, je suis le plus malade des surréalistes
august 31, 9:17pm
i define solitude as a state in which i don’t owe anything to anyone but myself.
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august 31, 11:06pm
the moon tonight was a cold white bone. i felt like a fat moth, yearning towards it. i would like to be so pure. but is purity not just bareness? the moon is naked; always fully stripped; & bound to her unshrouded condition. constantly exposed— and yet, constantly isolated to herself. vulnerability and armor are interconnected. her exposure is not entirely a subjection. her whispers move the sea; enfolding, embracing, expanding.
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september 1
each new day i have to learn again how to live
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september 2, 8:15pm
i have a habit of entering a new space and looking for people that i’m physically attracted to, then wisening up and listening for people that i’m intellectually attracted to. despite thinking that the latter is much more important, i somehow cannot help prioritizing the former. ideally, of course, i need both.
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september 3
the creation of art is an act of lingering
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september 4, 7:22pm
i write entire poems in my mind each midnight and then by each morning i’ve forgotten them
september 5, 11:23am
i need autumn bad. each day i watch the leaves with incessant, obsessive attention. is it morbid to find pleasure/comfort from watching things die? somehow, i feel that it isolates me to myself in a beautiful, yet painful, yet necessary way.
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september 6
i indulge in the idea that i am some mystery of life. the unknown unnamed egg. the universe swirling around me. i’m nineteen and it is in my nature to be thoroughly self-centered.
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i begin a habit of trespassing into the cemetery in the middle of the night. about a few times a week i find myself there, between the hours of 9pm and 3am. i do not feel scared. i stretch out in the backseat of my car, play harold budd, suck on fruit candy, read, write, and breathe.
"i’m nineteen and it is in my nature to be thoroughly self-centered." - yes but don't imagine you'll grow out of it - I'm nearly 60 years older than you and still am - it's the curse and blessing of creative people I think - to be self obsessed and at the same time self doubting. And agree with you about longing for the cool decay of Autumn
lovely vivid melodic language <3