January 1st, 2006

I close my eyes almost too hard. I make the music trick, let my mind wander freely from idea to idea, open every hidden well of dreams... and yet, there is all the same stuff around me. The same skin wrinkling over my bones.
"She survived but she's feeling old." (strange little girls, T.A)

I can't scape who I am. Who I'm I? Is not about wishing different traits... is about wishing them all. Looking to erase whatever differentiates me from the ground, from the invisible atmosphere.
"Endure not yet a breach but an expansion
Like gold to aery thinness beat." (a valediction forbidding morning, J.D)

I cannot quite get a sleep while knowing I'll wake up being I was before going away; knowing I'll wake up with the feeling that my perfectly individuated life does not quite fit with much going on out there to be felt, dreamt, touched. And here I am: ideas, thoughts, dreams, desires, and emotions still to arrive clinging desperately to bones that might as well not be real. I wish there were no boundaries at all.. everyone of us being fragments as well as "everythings.." Perhaps being just pieces of ideas scattered throughout a vast ocean of pure joy, pure melancholy, pure love.