2004-11-21
mort if I
Limits are an odd thing. Very necessary, and decidedly good or bad completely on the situation. You can limit yourself, you can limit other people. Lim-it. This probably has nothing to do with anything, but I still think about it. What if you forget that there is a limit? What if you break the limit? Why is there a limit, why is it the motivating force for so many people, maybe including myself?
Self-induced amnesia really never works. I wanted to believe that you would forget. I want to believe you when you say you believe me. Speech, we have discovered, is the lava. Magma even, brewing under the surface of our feet. Elusive and sensitive and morphing to its surroundings. I hate metaphors. I hate italic letters. I hate starting sentences in a repeated fashion, it's really annoying. I had better stop.
School is plaguing me. The next two days will not be easy, and maybe because I will not allow them to be. I wish I were you. I would tell her how very wrong she is and how it's so sad and offensive that she would say/do something like that. This applies dually. I hate myself for riddlings, unspoken knowns. I may fall between my own cracks. Religion entails worshipping. That's so dumb and so wrong.
We would all be better off if we had a Christmas party. My fruity punch would steam, just sweet enough. We would smell marshmallows, but I don't know if they would be there. Movies would be funny and good and in that Christmassy spirit. It's cold out there, it's warm in here. I want you to know that.
I have five important things to do, and I'm going to the movies with my mom tonight. thank you
leesah-likes at 1:18 p.m.