tonight i will go to sleep (well eventually) with dreams already live & in technicolor in my periphery, delightful unreality into which i propel my self willfully into whatever this is, & whatever it will or will not be, in spite of what it was meant to &/or should have been.
i have faced the past and found it mostly forgotten, those bits retained turned out to be less than i'd hoped they'd be anyway so fuck the past. fuck it. seriously.
i am more alone now than i have maybe ever been but you know? i forget stuff. so forget that, i am most likely wrong about the memories of aloneness, probably they were worse than this, as if that matters? because, you know, no. it doesn't. matter, that is. my point is, that this now, which may or may not be the most, is still ... now, & therefore this is it.
it is. it *so* is.
i have faced the past and found it mostly forgotten, those bits retained turned out to be less than i'd hoped they'd be anyway so fuck the past. fuck it. seriously.
i am more alone now than i have maybe ever been but you know? i forget stuff. so forget that, i am most likely wrong about the memories of aloneness, probably they were worse than this, as if that matters? because, you know, no. it doesn't. matter, that is. my point is, that this now, which may or may not be the most, is still ... now, & therefore this is it.
it is. it *so* is.
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