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24 January 2013 @ 07:02 pm
  i don't like to be demystified 

- although it does give me a certain sense of comfort, in a way that makes it possible for me to relax for the first time in what seems like a million years - a hundred lifetimes

-

i wish i was proficient enough at anything, any art form, whether it be photography, writing, playing the piano, to make sense of what i'm thinking the second i am thinking it, no delay, no blur that invariably comes as a natural consequence of passing time between actual thought and the verbalisation of said thought, 

or the other way around,

to make sense of what i am thinking before even i myself know what it means, to find out what i'm thinking - like joan didion does - 

i write and write and write and it feels as if i am running after my own mind


the naive assumption that i could forever control
what you know
about me

only a shadow 
of sorts

but here i am
no mystery about morning hair, pale face, the wish to be loved by every living soul in the universe,
the impatience, the glorification of my own faults to not have to change anything ever, 
i demand change
yet am too stubborn
to ever really change anything about me, my perception of things

quite frequently i find myself thinking a myriad of fuck yous
find myself having to resist the urge to get up and leave and run
then i break out laughing imagining myself zig-zagging off somewhere
and i stay put
 
 
16 July 2012 @ 10:29 pm
 
there is one thing i can tell you that i know for sure after 25 years on this planet:

broken hearts heal
 
 
26 February 2012 @ 08:17 pm
i have to resort to this, because there's no proper place for my words, yet they have to be written down somewhere other than my private journal. this place is a profound mess. it depicts emotions ranging from anger to sadness to being head-over-heels in love and all the way back to intense pain, the worst of which is set to private, i hate sharing too much yet i love writing and what does one write about if not their own experiences, sometimes slightly altered, distorted, not all of this is true but most of it has some kind of meaning. hidden vs. obvious, does it really matter. say what you mean to say. i hate being kept guessing. i will stop guessing. i will go back to things that are clear and out in the open, even though i myself sometimes prefer keeping things a little mysterious.  

i prefer vague sentences over complete stories
i prefer daredevils over cowards 
i prefer small gestures over big ones that don't mean a thing
i prefer the sea over the mountains
i prefer small doses of real honest poetry over big piles of kitsch
i prefer sunflowers over roses
i prefer you over anyone, any day
 
 
14 January 2012 @ 10:25 pm
my thoughts don't really fit anywhere
anymore
 
 
17 March 2011 @ 01:18 pm
 
and here
we go
we go
we go
about creating things, inventing things
new things from old things
new things from new thoughts


the future is ours,
and so is the present.
 
 
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