Rambling

There will always be this insatiable feeling within me. When I was young, I used to believe that the world would eventually open up. Not just for me, but I thought it happened to people in general. I thought that time would eventually thrust me into new experiences, and the world would show me what it meant to be alive. It is all very grand and naive. But I have also never liked to feel uncomfortable. And I do not like that getting close to others and letting go involves an incidental, unconscious process of opening up. I guess what I am trying to say is that, I thought, that eventually I would be brave enough to live, to live. But I had misconstrued what it meant to live. To truly live is to be brave. Yet I still long for "something". I long to encounter someone or something. I long to be drunken and under a spell. I think, what I want to say is that there's nothing worse than being a coward with an insatiable thirst because it's a form of purgatory. There is a feeling that keeps me awake at night, but fear is my God. So I feel fated: I will seek the sensation of my own propagated delusion by dancing with the ghosts of my illusions. It's like...listening to music with your ear pressed up against the wall, when all you have to do is get up, open the door, go outside, and follow the sound.

Lovin'

I just want to be asked how my day was, and I want someone to remember the little things. That's all. But all is too much.

"Todo lo que la noche dibuja con su mano de sombra"

There's a place between two sounds.

I listen to a recording of Chopin's Nocturnes. And I am present within the space between the heavy and constant mist of white noise and the bursting of a note as the weight is lifted off a key.