a million to land is two years for man
[Apr. 11th, 200811:48 am]
The chariot's got two beautful wheels, but this horse grows tired too easily. There's a heavy load and this horse seems to know, that he is to feeble to pull the load. ----------------------------------------------------------------------written into the weather; god wakes you with a slam, and you are to thank him for letting you know how this story will unfold. So many irrational ways to justify one's inclinations and feeling of entitlement. Im doing my best not to think about how things appear to you; how things are for you, because it bothers me. Anxiety. You are a part of me, and I refuse to think of anything as bitterly. It's really just anxiety; only today does it really become clear to me-a very large source of this pain is the way things are painted by your brain- all I want is to be able to do things my own way.Like a thousand people trying to walk through a door at the same time. Not people, but ideas-mostly representations of people granted-but images of mind- all trying to walk through a door at the same time. Sit by the river and cry. He's got laboured breathing, lighteheadedness when standing too fast, has to sit down and I am too fragile to even ask; the old man never sleeps and I make him consent to me. Don't say goodbye when you leave. Everybody wants something from me and I can't give anyone what they need. When you go it will change; let the pieces seperate naturally I suppose-like two human continents who break away and exist in a much faster time and space; a million to land is 2 years for man.There won' be much, all that will remain is a feeling that things were never that great to anyone else for longer than a a day-anxiety; what renders me afraid? having a lack of freedom; not being able to do things my own way-it's like a thousand people trying to walk through a door at the same time-the door is located at the center of my chest. I am blocked and at the back of the line-waiting for everyone else to fit comfortably inside.