(no subject)
Okay, so this nightmarish week is almost over. I can think of no better way to end it than by coming out to see Shang's kids do a reading. I think it's important for me to know--to understand--that she wasn't just fooling around, or having a good time (though I bet she did), or ignoring me. She was doing work. Good work. It reminds me of U.S. Grant. Those were fun times (though of course I was suicidal as hell. I wonder if being suicidal allows you to appreciate the little things. God's great work. I swear that most of this feeling comes from not being anything like that.Not part of the greater something, and feeling sorry for myself because of it.
When I was 19 (and suicidal as hell), Linda and Christina sat me down and asked me the most inane question ever. What does it feel like to be beautiful? I told them very simply that it was not worth it.
I had a thought, but I don't want to continue it right now. I'm sorry. I can't.Maybe later.
When I was 19 (and suicidal as hell), Linda and Christina sat me down and asked me the most inane question ever. What does it feel like to be beautiful? I told them very simply that it was not worth it.
I had a thought, but I don't want to continue it right now. I'm sorry. I can't.Maybe later.