(no subject)
Look at this vessle, riddled with bullet holes and it's my blind faith for you, made of layers built up through different instances where I decided to stay with you through the confusion and agienst the odds, but we'll call it sputnik two and I am all half asleep and calm dreaming my sweet puppy dreams as I wait for whatever great voyage. In the control room, craning over small glowing monitors, they sent her out KNOWING there was no way she could make it back, but I would bet anything they felt sympathy for her. Maybe they felt horrable. When all of the ladders are busted out, and there's no way into heaven, we build one way rocketships, but you- you try to make heaven look like a fucked up place and why would you do that? Eventually think you don't give a fuck what you look like, and maybe you're trying to work fast to keep me from getting messed up. Feel like if I had just had a week or two to straighten it out- but if you're doing this out of kindness it's alright and I still love you, just hope I can hold up because this is something you've got to be commited to, and there's nothing you can say to help me through it now. Just imagine you're looking at me through the monitors, captain, the grace of humanity. And listen to our broken hearted parents mutter about marrage being a crook, how silly to think and god bless them for raising us to believe in things they no longer do. After all of my epicurian conquest to find the best thing to do with my life and monogamy finally seems like so much more then handing out thousand dollar rings like gumball machine toys, like it's the ultimate goal and I've learned to listen the best I can and I think you have too for no other reason than I've asked please, please listen. The man saying hurry hurry I will get married before you and you will be left behind will die alone next to his wife. Gardening is good, honest work! (Hay pacific ocean!) And by the time the letter got there if it did it was too late and you'd done what you'd chosen to do.
Dear Mr, Burroughs, If you were stranded on a desert island would you still write?
Yes, I would write for when a ship came and picked me up - hope, there's always hope.
(or something to that effect)
Sitting feeling kind of idol and eating, hit hard with a viceral sickness and I didn't know if I was going to vomit: what if you decided I was a mistake, what if you decided you felt all of that but not towards me? I think human subconsience saves things like this untill I got alittle unconfused so I could take it: Neitzche suffered a strange mental colapse at the end of his life, maybe his subconscience oversteped itself. It's crazy to me that physical sensations like this are actually connected to emotions, and all of the people I've met and all of the places I've been, I've gained so much experiance from this, and can you imagine if we'd just written it off as nothing?
Can we just forget all of this, and move to the west coast for a season and become surfers? We can sleep on the beach. Who ever heard of a grown ass lumberjack surfing? Sometimes I feel like If I just grabed hold of you long enough all of this would be released like an african shamon releasing bad spirits.
The thought that one day I'll see you and you'll tell me I'm an idiot for all of this, or that I'll never see or hear from you again in the back of my mind, but mostly I think there's an explanation and I'm not confused gurls yet. Maybe never end up like that. And so I feel alright, and there's not much more I can do, and didn't you know I'd fight for you with all of my effort regardless. So yeah, it's alittle freeing. And a good way to stop me, I don't believe you're on drugs (or insane, if that's what that looked like) A disconected number calls a phone that never rings, and there's tons of explanations and mostly that there's just cell numbers flying round everywhere, but it makes it seem like maybe you were reaching out, just know there's not really anything for you to say and that at least calms my nerves alittle. AND YOU CANT SAY ANYTHING TO ME NOW! It would be a good thing if you had the faith in me to do this, so don't doubt yourself. NOW you can say time has briddled us both. I probably understand even more than you think.
Dear Mr, Burroughs, If you were stranded on a desert island would you still write?
Yes, I would write for when a ship came and picked me up - hope, there's always hope.
(or something to that effect)
Sitting feeling kind of idol and eating, hit hard with a viceral sickness and I didn't know if I was going to vomit: what if you decided I was a mistake, what if you decided you felt all of that but not towards me? I think human subconsience saves things like this untill I got alittle unconfused so I could take it: Neitzche suffered a strange mental colapse at the end of his life, maybe his subconscience oversteped itself. It's crazy to me that physical sensations like this are actually connected to emotions, and all of the people I've met and all of the places I've been, I've gained so much experiance from this, and can you imagine if we'd just written it off as nothing?
Can we just forget all of this, and move to the west coast for a season and become surfers? We can sleep on the beach. Who ever heard of a grown ass lumberjack surfing? Sometimes I feel like If I just grabed hold of you long enough all of this would be released like an african shamon releasing bad spirits.
The thought that one day I'll see you and you'll tell me I'm an idiot for all of this, or that I'll never see or hear from you again in the back of my mind, but mostly I think there's an explanation and I'm not confused gurls yet. Maybe never end up like that. And so I feel alright, and there's not much more I can do, and didn't you know I'd fight for you with all of my effort regardless. So yeah, it's alittle freeing. And a good way to stop me, I don't believe you're on drugs (or insane, if that's what that looked like) A disconected number calls a phone that never rings, and there's tons of explanations and mostly that there's just cell numbers flying round everywhere, but it makes it seem like maybe you were reaching out, just know there's not really anything for you to say and that at least calms my nerves alittle. AND YOU CANT SAY ANYTHING TO ME NOW! It would be a good thing if you had the faith in me to do this, so don't doubt yourself. NOW you can say time has briddled us both. I probably understand even more than you think.