rambles.

Free Association: My Train of Thought:

I could never keep rythm. I can't clap on beat.
I see my sister struggle to fight time. Cling to what was simple and good. I see her see the world grow old around her. They aren't children anymore.
Houses. Careers. Marriage.
The natural order of things?
I'm not a child anymore.
I see my parents.
They're tiered.
I see them for what they are and not what I thought they were.
I thought they were parents.
And they are. But they are also
Human.
I want to marvel at something. I want to stand in front of a being and be encapsulated and consumed by felicity at their existence. I want
I want to be something someone marvels at.
Marvelous.
Magic.
Wands. And wizards. and Once upon a times.
My favorite stores used to start with once upon a time.
Now my favorite stories end with the protagonist laying face down in a pool of his blood.
Gatsby. The Great Gatsby.
Great.
Greatness.
Great.
I can't say the word without sounding sarcastic.
I love sarcasm but I can't help but to be sadened by it. Why can't we ever just mean what we say and not say the opposite of what we mean.
Mean what you say.
Say what you mean.
Mean. Meaning.
Mean.
Isn't silly how the word we use for what is actual, what is the the truth, i.e. the meaning contains the word Mean instead of Nice as if what is true is never nice. because the world isn't nice and the facts aren't nice because realistically speaking no one is ever as nice as you hope they are going to be.
Because Gatsby gets shot and Daisy rides away with that ole brute Tom and we're left wondering what the devil its all supposed to mean.

I know i'm a bitch but when you call me one its hurts my feelings and so I throw my feelings out and decide that i'm better off without them.

I feel like when I lost them, gave them away, lost them, like my innards had been scooped out like a pumpkin for the carving, and the rest of my body collapsed in on itself because I had no soul.


I used to I think