I'd like to be a writer. Usually I write short pieces about emotions that I am having. I like to just let myself go, and use writing as a form of expression to get those emotions out and dealt with. I think I may have posted this here before, but I wrote it last month, just a quick thing.
Unme
September 19, 2002
Today. Today was just like yesterday. Yesterday, just like last week. Time becomes meaningless when you have frozen solid. I am a block of ice in a state of interjacence. People in my life flow around me and over me like rivers and estuaries, melting pieces of me to take with them. And the coldness inside me steals fragments from those that flow near and adheres them to my icy exterior, where they remain, always out of reach and yet always in my vision. These fragments can be emotions, love. Love is a quickly cooling layer that rests somewhere in my periphery. My cherished memories of love are sprinkled across this layer. They resemble stars in the night sky: infinitely magical; permanently out of reach. Anger. Anger is closer to the core, dark and cold and omnipresent in my thoughts. And because of its proximity, I find it hard to see through. I know love is out there but I can see it only in flashes and feel it only in quick smiles. In the morning, I imagine she is lying next to me. Frozen. Frozen so solid are the memories of lying next to her months and months ago, that I still fantasize about them and reenact them all alone. I am sometimes afraid to go outside, of the crowds of people in bars or on the streets. I feel coldness coursing through my veins like a bad drug. And I am content to wait for the effects to wear off. I am a fool. I have created a mask, a shine-on happy face. Mostly because anger has not been a constructive thing for me. But happiness is only one layer on a cold canvas. And happiness, like love, burns the most brightly on the canvas. Love, if rooted to your core can set fire to your soul and return you to the natural state of liquidity. Love...I do my best to push it to the surface, but at that level it is transparent. My innards are hollow. Take one look at me and you can see the dark cloud that is my core. Billions of rivers, lives flow past me. It is all I can do to let them close to me, let them take from me, give them love. Generosity is the key to warming the spirit, and I too will flow with the rivers. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I will know who I am.
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