"Well, sit down. Listen. I understand. And it's very nice of you. But you don't know. I thought a few days here would be enough to take the hero worship out of you. I see it wasn't. Here you are, saying to yourself how grand old Cameron is, a noble fighter, a martyr to a lost cause, and you'd just love to die on the barricades with me and to eat in ( Read more... )

Surrender the idea of higher knowledge, surrender pseudo-insight ( Read more... )

... and what am I looking for?

You, in the face of anyone but.

Often times, I don't remember you. I am waiting for the day to come un-rotten. I keep telling you, "when that happens, I can turn my face." But I never do, because in those small moments when it does, I'm busy waiting for the next low to come.

I'm sorry you've never seen my face.

Its the long-range pressure I don't do well with. I think its the waiting. I can't just do it all in one go, like a "don't-stop-adrenaline-pumping" sort of thing. I'm impatient, and long stretches of time with little to keep my mind on make me anxious. Especially when I'm in a stressful situation that I have to get myself through, but have to wait ( Read more... )

Instead, I stood there pulling the dead parts off my flowers.