Have you ever wanted to die
Not like having something so amazing happen that you think you could die, because I think I’ve felt that
But when all hope has been drained
Your marrow left bloodless
Your mind left wondering why you haven’t died already since your life obviously has no universal purpose
The struggle, you know about that
Grows
Like a weed
Constantly coming back when you think you’ve conquered them all
It’s a feeling that grows
Not one that happens over night
This feeling is one that occurs after years of continuous struggle
Where no matter how much you’ve learned
You can’t help but think your body is burned with the stamp of eternal agony
…what’s next
Dear neighbor-
I am first going to tell you that I am sorry for my neglect. This week I have spent hours searching for similes, and finding meaning between the black ocean waves and a purple moor. I have been feeling a little more lost than I am used to. The freedom from backpacks and MLA format makes me wonder if I will ever be able to keep the dishes clean. And what if I am a failure because I will never like doing laundry?
I need some fiesta time, where you read aloud all of the things people don’t need, while I struggle to keep the lettuce off the table.
-someone who wants longer days
Neighbor-
Im sorry, I have been away from the computer too much this weekend. But right now my head is too busy, and I can’t think of the right things to say.
-c.
p.s.
reading in the stream
don’t you miss it?
fallen cigs
i contemplated smoking that cigarette for days now, yet opted to buy new tobacco every time. i bet it was dry. if i hadn’t been sleeping for 10 hours i could have rolled a new one for you…but i am sure glad you were taken care of.
real quick-
there was a rolled cigarette in the bathroom, and i smoked it.
I’m pretty sure it was ben’s.
I will have more to say later.
dear neighbor,
Is it selfish that I feel happier? Sometimes i just like wanting things, not actually having them. Because I think it is like nothing is ever as good as it could have been. But is it realistic to live in ambiguity? Because I just don’t believe in one answer. My problems are always in shapes I have never seen before, and solving them feels like sounding out words i have never seen before. I get self conscious because I can’t cut lasagna into even pieces, and the cheese oozes outside of all the lines.
I think that everyone always knows. Proof 1: The first time I saw the front yard, I thought it needed work. Like the tree was begging for grass and less of this inconsistent gravel. And the table, felt used and tacky, until we talked there once, and the faded green plastic felt like something familiar, like the same color of my childhood neighbor’s over chlorinated pool. And how now I think it means something that i like to sit out front. Proof 2: I like things simple, from how I format writing, to my food. Until I tried thai food, and realized that there are so many different shades grey. Proof 3: The first time i met you, I felt unsure. But you help me wear my consistencies like jewelry. You inspire honesty, and a kind of excitement that permits bruises.
love,
your neighbor
one saturday…
my camera is a new necessity, which is why i thought it odd as a forgotten item. mimosas are probably a decent trade, don’t you think? your hair is great today, it glistens in the sun with perfection, a shade of orange that has too been forgotten. the simplicity of a day that has no plan and no meaning is well shared with you. my words are pre-meditated, yet written with a bubbly luster you can only get from drunken bubbles…hahaha. its been two days since our last “serious” talk and i feel like the withdrawal has subsided with your thoughts in proximity. thoughts in proximity, huh. proximus thoughts…fun. i’ve been meaning to say to you these things that i have since forgotten, but feel are unnecessary to say now, as you’ve probably already thought them, or are at this very moment. this very moment…we think…about this very moment.
dear neighbor,
I want you to know the reason I don’t indent my paragraphs: (even though this is what we call a ‘friendly letter’) is because sometimes I like things to seem formal, even when they’re not. I love language like my favorite pair of shoes. I think I like change so much that I am disappointed in Christmas because it always feels the same.
I just like the idea of ‘movie mondays’, and no one has to know how long that really lasted, but would they even ask? Because I like different kinds of stories. Just so you know, I almost kissed my mirror this morning, my hair looked so good. And sometimes I can’t get over how far ‘good reason’ can go. Have you ever heard the crimminals’s side of the story? Language can push us so far.
