The Closing of Another Year.
So my acting class has disbanded. What is that line Erin? The actors disband? Anyways. Thats hard. And on Saturday I guess I will cry.
On the way into the house I had all these beautiful thoughts to share. Where did they all go to? Into the bassline of Tricky I suppose. Off to warm up another one's stream of consciousness. In my world of blue I feel as though one cannot jump out of their mould, they can only get comfortable. Boys in cabs. Cabbies with long hair. Where one begins the other one ends. Eighteen soldiers go out to war and only three return, carrying their limbs in doggy bags.
God I will miss some people.
My chinchilla like drum and bass. I like drum and bass. And why can't I do it just for once before I go? Do you not understand that sometimes I miss it? A person misses a lot of things, and not all of them have to be good for you. Some can be revisited. Old lovers, old hangouts. Bookstores.
To be rid of oneself is what one seeks. If one is completely happy with who they are they are lying. To themselves among others. A comprimise must be struck with the lady of the house. Her dress gets tangled in the spindles of the staircase. No one to help but the help. Degradation. Humiliation. Waiting while others unravel the stitching. Sitting impatiently in a heap. Makeup drooping. One nail is ripped off in nervousness. When set free she moves about the house feeling as though others are laughing behind her back, pointing to the others, relishing in her moment of weakness. And they do. They smirk at her back, knowing now what they suspected all along: she is no different than any of them.
On the way into the house I had all these beautiful thoughts to share. Where did they all go to? Into the bassline of Tricky I suppose. Off to warm up another one's stream of consciousness. In my world of blue I feel as though one cannot jump out of their mould, they can only get comfortable. Boys in cabs. Cabbies with long hair. Where one begins the other one ends. Eighteen soldiers go out to war and only three return, carrying their limbs in doggy bags.
God I will miss some people.
My chinchilla like drum and bass. I like drum and bass. And why can't I do it just for once before I go? Do you not understand that sometimes I miss it? A person misses a lot of things, and not all of them have to be good for you. Some can be revisited. Old lovers, old hangouts. Bookstores.
To be rid of oneself is what one seeks. If one is completely happy with who they are they are lying. To themselves among others. A comprimise must be struck with the lady of the house. Her dress gets tangled in the spindles of the staircase. No one to help but the help. Degradation. Humiliation. Waiting while others unravel the stitching. Sitting impatiently in a heap. Makeup drooping. One nail is ripped off in nervousness. When set free she moves about the house feeling as though others are laughing behind her back, pointing to the others, relishing in her moment of weakness. And they do. They smirk at her back, knowing now what they suspected all along: she is no different than any of them.