They say you'll find it out there.
What could we tell you that you make you feel that this all was worthwhile?
I apologize for everything. I will go into details, though, in time of course, to assure that thought has been put into the matter, and that I'm not simply issuing a blanket apology to cover all hindquarters.
I feel like a waste of resources. My mood is a differential equation of some sort that I don't feel like solving, but which I could illustrate quite well had I the means here. I don't quite understand it, but it's a transition of some sort. And it only fits that, as I am undergoing a transition, that my analogous counterpart also undergoes a transition. It only remains to be seen what direction that is.
Perhaps it is entirely obvious. I simply cannot see it from here. My view is blocked, and I'm too far away. Repika, the duality which governed all things in Marches, has fallen away, and I could not catch either half individually in my foolish attempt to catch both.
I apologize for sitting so close and saying nothing. It's this awful social convention of not being able to actively pursue friendships when they are most needed, because people who look desperate in such situations are socially repulsive. I am alone in many things. But I was also desensitized in some, so I don't mind it quite so much. Welcome home.
Repika, and I address mainly the first half, what have I done? Tell me I haven't changed you forever. Say I held no effect on your current dispositions - but were that so, I'd not be blocked from your memories.
Are we too much alike? It's too painfully clear now what you did then, for I have a history of doing the same type of thing. It's not a particularly successful method. But the housecat dives out the open door to taste freedom, not to indulge a life upon it; he comes mewing to the doorway where he knows food and shelter are consistent. Did I see an open door and dive at Montreal, knowing that another, safer life was preserved for me at home? I don't want to have to wait for all the doors to close before I do anything with my life.
I apologize for writing here so cryptically. To be honest, I write without revealing all the details of anything so that people will be curious about the details and ask me. It's my means of attempting to inspire meaningful conversation with people, while filtering them down to those who have a genuine interest. As stated before, approaching people for friendship is effective on the same level that holding a hat out for money earns a living. The angle of approach must be shallow. So I make sidelong observations, and wait for responses. There, now you know that - it was never a secret, and in my opinion, kind of obvious. But assumptions will undermine relations like nothing else.
On that matter, though, this entire online journal thing has existed for quite a long time now. Just over three years, in fact, which is not so long in the true scope of things, but I filter observations through experience, and by that I believe three years to be a decent length of time to possess something like this. Especially to possess it and not change it, and it has been running circles around itself for a bit too long, it seems.
It will make sense in a month or two. I'm planning something so tremendously spectacular it's bound to either never happen, or fall blisteringly short of my expectations.
-----
We walk these worn discoveries anew,
Pretend they are our own, and overlook
The carpeting of footprints undershoe,
And claim to have assembled what we took.
There is no source or origin to blame,
Now lost by plagiarizing plagiarists;
For centuries existing all the same
With not one new idea in our fists.
If every generation could begin
Precisely where the last had met its peak,
Progression would be shunned as social sin;
We like too much to think we are unique.
Perhaps it's for the best we have not rushed
To meet our end with fragile stasis crushed.
I apologize for everything. I will go into details, though, in time of course, to assure that thought has been put into the matter, and that I'm not simply issuing a blanket apology to cover all hindquarters.
I feel like a waste of resources. My mood is a differential equation of some sort that I don't feel like solving, but which I could illustrate quite well had I the means here. I don't quite understand it, but it's a transition of some sort. And it only fits that, as I am undergoing a transition, that my analogous counterpart also undergoes a transition. It only remains to be seen what direction that is.
Perhaps it is entirely obvious. I simply cannot see it from here. My view is blocked, and I'm too far away. Repika, the duality which governed all things in Marches, has fallen away, and I could not catch either half individually in my foolish attempt to catch both.
I apologize for sitting so close and saying nothing. It's this awful social convention of not being able to actively pursue friendships when they are most needed, because people who look desperate in such situations are socially repulsive. I am alone in many things. But I was also desensitized in some, so I don't mind it quite so much. Welcome home.
Repika, and I address mainly the first half, what have I done? Tell me I haven't changed you forever. Say I held no effect on your current dispositions - but were that so, I'd not be blocked from your memories.
Are we too much alike? It's too painfully clear now what you did then, for I have a history of doing the same type of thing. It's not a particularly successful method. But the housecat dives out the open door to taste freedom, not to indulge a life upon it; he comes mewing to the doorway where he knows food and shelter are consistent. Did I see an open door and dive at Montreal, knowing that another, safer life was preserved for me at home? I don't want to have to wait for all the doors to close before I do anything with my life.
I apologize for writing here so cryptically. To be honest, I write without revealing all the details of anything so that people will be curious about the details and ask me. It's my means of attempting to inspire meaningful conversation with people, while filtering them down to those who have a genuine interest. As stated before, approaching people for friendship is effective on the same level that holding a hat out for money earns a living. The angle of approach must be shallow. So I make sidelong observations, and wait for responses. There, now you know that - it was never a secret, and in my opinion, kind of obvious. But assumptions will undermine relations like nothing else.
On that matter, though, this entire online journal thing has existed for quite a long time now. Just over three years, in fact, which is not so long in the true scope of things, but I filter observations through experience, and by that I believe three years to be a decent length of time to possess something like this. Especially to possess it and not change it, and it has been running circles around itself for a bit too long, it seems.
It will make sense in a month or two. I'm planning something so tremendously spectacular it's bound to either never happen, or fall blisteringly short of my expectations.
-----
We walk these worn discoveries anew,
Pretend they are our own, and overlook
The carpeting of footprints undershoe,
And claim to have assembled what we took.
There is no source or origin to blame,
Now lost by plagiarizing plagiarists;
For centuries existing all the same
With not one new idea in our fists.
If every generation could begin
Precisely where the last had met its peak,
Progression would be shunned as social sin;
We like too much to think we are unique.
Perhaps it's for the best we have not rushed
To meet our end with fragile stasis crushed.