Her Stream Of Conciousness...

1:53 AM 7/1/08

You live your life going nowhere. You come across a black hole and some kind of apprehension, physically and mentally created by your own restlessness, traps you deep inside. I am sick of words like deep and inside. I want to be a writer for god sakes. I want to fade into my writing without the senses of strange and talent less loitering about me. I think about her and what love I gave up to share that one kiss, void of any notion of sexual bliss, with her. What if it were he who was destined to be both my sweetest downfall, and greatest love of all? I never loved her, and yet I threw away a chance to see the beauty of it all within the arms of the most caring man who ever lived, all to share a moment of homoerotic intimacy with her. I was neither a bisexual heterosexual, nor a homosexual lesbian then, nor am I now. I fear never being able to grasp the idea behind what prompted me to be so foolish then. I succumbed to her existence day in and day out for so long, and my composure without her, though convincing, still crumbles from time to time....

Ugh! I can’t write unless it sounds poetic! Whoever put the idea, that everything in writing must leave a sense of awe within the minds of everyone who is exposed to it, into my head must pay!

Dear you,

Am I ever going to succeed?

If you can only comprehend the thoughts I keep playing in my head minute after minute, and hour after hour. I’m scared. I am the laziest human being ever, and I can sit here and tell you that this really isn’t me, but what if it is? It isn’t what if. It really is me. I don’t know why I chose English to major in, and I don’t know why I walk around telling my parents that when I strike it rich, they’ll swallow all their criticisms of me….

I will never make that kind of money, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Or does it?

I don’t want to turn into my mother.

I don’t want a broken heart, shedding tears on my unborn child, while my husband makes love to another overseas.

I thought my only pain was learning how to say goodbye to my past.

I haven’t thought of it much lately. Does this mean the fond farewell was truly accepted by both the recollections, and the character whose most difficult task in life was bidding those recollections adieu?

Constant Craving.

Attempting the inevitable even once, remember to make it last for all time.

_Think of supplementary possessions and their current ramifications in relation to your life at the moment, and the past seems almost miniscule. The past seems to remain less than what it really is, nothing more than just the past, a bittersweet, disorderly, beautiful, and cataclysmic frenzy; an insanely astonishing sort of reflection, just a vision through a lucid screen mirroring my past. _