attempt 5060600. and sharing it with a face
elif- f for freddy
preparing notes for my final exam. i will be free of something tomorrow at around 4.30 to be exact. and a new chapter will follow. i may continue to hold, but i know the deep breaths won’t hurt as much anymore. its remarkable how you see time, and the time one allows themselves to employ their joys. i will continue buying new tools. and every purchase will be monitored without real money. i will be a craftsman at what i choose to do. i will keep all my bulletin boards and remember why i am here. i almost never fail at analysing my inspirational moments, and i agree unbelievably that as i have criticised my life until today, i will not change. i accept. forgive myself. and will enjoy the day even if there is a tiny element of sadness.
i will not be a boring product. my only promise to myself
any trouble finding a way into the laws of an easy going one? impossible. to fulfil the utmost non-passive life, full of opportunities, one must do a plenty and more. and it is your journey that takes you places that were not on your lists. those targets will be defeated by other suggestive reasons, and along the way you will network into awkward reality. this is the point your cocoon learns the subject of; power, and you notice each deal in vanity, then possibly you can only surpass who you was and who you will ever be. we are different every day. and every moment we live, must be with delight in the nature of being a talking animal. red underwear and blue skies, with touches of yellow in everything we believe in, surely, no existence is possible without the sun, and the urge to be yourself regardless of any presentation of morals and ethics. the time ticking reminds us of new ages, then only that length of time matters. the ones that bring in new lines and our genetics kick in more than any other moments we had ever kept secure for self-realisation. 30 is not huge. the worry of dying out of place. fear for not having an insightful life, seeing blotches pass by, and everything turning into soup. walls are the only confessions. really. truly. we must make up. we must compromise. we must sleep in a warm spot. and our bed must portray who we are. just like a lions den. the face we wake up to, the face(s) we carry. the expressions that are handheld. custom made expressions.
How do you catch up with it. how do you stay.. well human? so let me take off my shoes, and say ‘i’m home’. a night out. the one i haven’t coloured into my diary for a long time.but then came the never ending other plans, excuses from habit. either way, i abolish any understanding. the ones that prevent us from empathising. for some, it must be hard to comfort others i guess. so now i go back to my ways. and i see; someone else, that it was somebody else.
it’s been such a long time. such a big hole. need help to be whole. haha really, mmm am i writing as i think. im speaking to myself again. need to make it through the night. good thousands of words.
i just brought you a bundle of tissues, blow your bloody nose. stop making noise. its pissing me off. all i need is silence, just so i can focus on some banking law. please sort your nose out little girl. need to write up salmon J’s decision, cant be seated here focusing on this when you’re constantly sniffing. the library, same spot i used to sit at, nearly a decade ago.
he said it’s been a long time coming, and i can only turn blind for so long.
The sentiment of virtue is a reverence and delight in the presence of certain divine laws. it perceives that this homely game of life we play, covers, under what seem foolish details, principles that astonish. The child amidst his baubles, is learning the action of light, motion, gravity, muscular force; and in the game of human life, love, fear, justice, appetite, man and God, interact. These laws refuse to be adequately stated.- Ralph Waldo Emerson
that is then, the moment that the moon touches the earth. and confusion becomes your existence. and the power of three doesnt matter anymore because all you feel is melancholia. you listen to a granddad saying ‘rise up and walk you are not dead’ and it astonishes you how he just died willingly. reflections, being aware of all your faults. Maya was correct. Bitterness is like cancer. i did eat myself up. and in loving correspondence this should not be the individuals concern. i have burned all clean. I am free from you. very soon.