I Want To Save You From Your Sorrow
I have finally started editing this thing, which means that I am re-reading this thing. I am incredibly boring. And I was far more boring in the beginning, which I guess is growth I should appreciate. God, those first posts are fucking awful. Not that it's become gems of insight and hilarity since, but- ugh, I was so terrible. I am reassured by the idea that I will either, in the future, feel I've grown from the person I am now, or figure out this was the most interesting I have ever been. And the most well written/ communicated.
Also, I didn't use enough commas, so I think I'm overcompensating now. I will never understand commas. I am pretty sure I addressed that in an earlier post, but I haven't gotten there yet. I had to stop after the first five "episodes". I am comforting my sense of failure by listening to 'The Only Thing' on repeat, because I am definitely going to drive this car half-light jack-knife into this canyon at night. Death comes for us all, and it is the only reassurance that things, even if they become extraordinarily pleasant, won't matter on my death bed. If I never see Sufjan Stevens it won't be matter, unless I end up in some hell where I am feet away from him but can't talk or move. I don't think that's the kind of hell I'd end up in, though. I don't think it would be the worst- and I have definitely been a bitch, so I will probably end up in some more serious hell-situations. I have never read Dante's Inferno, actually. I probably should. Although, I think, more than the idea of hell, I fear I'll just end. Without any understanding I'll just be gone, forever. The secondary fear is that this never ends. It's just an on-going loop of the same life forever- because matter cannot be created or destroyed. That's a thing, right? I wonder, some days, what iteration of this life I am in...and if I went through all these same mistakes every time. If there has never been any variation and the concept is not even possible. I'll always let myself be vulnerable at the wrong moments, and I will always have trouble finishing things or committing to anything more than wasting time. It's weird to be vulnerable and refuse connections at the same time. I'm probably not as aloof as I like to think I am. I probably have truly loved a lot, but in my memory I rewrite things so that it's not as painful. I don't care who I lose because the caring I feel is just something I create because I think I need to. I sound like Scott. We really are idiots.
Like I said, I am listening to 'The Only Thing' on repeat- and the reason is because everything returns to you some how. You isn't Scott. It varies. It probably doesn't, but I'm not going to let myself think that, because it's easier to think that it's a childish fantasy I am using to protect myself from making a deeper connection now. That fear is probably Scott, but not just. It's the one-night stands. The attempts at talking to someone after having such long periods of real connections is confusing and painful. It's not unique, though. I'll have to let go of fantasies at some point and let someone else in. But not now.
I have had a few dreams about Gilbert lately, which is a little weird, because he's not the recent trauma. The only curiosity that remains for Scott though is the itch of wondering whether he still has my old car. Sometimes I think 'I love you' but it's attached to blackness now. Which another strange feeling. I want it to be attached to Scott, because that would make some sense, but just having a deep rooted love for a love that doesn't exist (meaning the image of blackness that comes to mind) is almost unsettling. I've redirected it to the lyrics of Sufjan Stevens, I think. Today I am really obsessed.
But that's not really different- just the obsession is.
Also, I didn't use enough commas, so I think I'm overcompensating now. I will never understand commas. I am pretty sure I addressed that in an earlier post, but I haven't gotten there yet. I had to stop after the first five "episodes". I am comforting my sense of failure by listening to 'The Only Thing' on repeat, because I am definitely going to drive this car half-light jack-knife into this canyon at night. Death comes for us all, and it is the only reassurance that things, even if they become extraordinarily pleasant, won't matter on my death bed. If I never see Sufjan Stevens it won't be matter, unless I end up in some hell where I am feet away from him but can't talk or move. I don't think that's the kind of hell I'd end up in, though. I don't think it would be the worst- and I have definitely been a bitch, so I will probably end up in some more serious hell-situations. I have never read Dante's Inferno, actually. I probably should. Although, I think, more than the idea of hell, I fear I'll just end. Without any understanding I'll just be gone, forever. The secondary fear is that this never ends. It's just an on-going loop of the same life forever- because matter cannot be created or destroyed. That's a thing, right? I wonder, some days, what iteration of this life I am in...and if I went through all these same mistakes every time. If there has never been any variation and the concept is not even possible. I'll always let myself be vulnerable at the wrong moments, and I will always have trouble finishing things or committing to anything more than wasting time. It's weird to be vulnerable and refuse connections at the same time. I'm probably not as aloof as I like to think I am. I probably have truly loved a lot, but in my memory I rewrite things so that it's not as painful. I don't care who I lose because the caring I feel is just something I create because I think I need to. I sound like Scott. We really are idiots.
Like I said, I am listening to 'The Only Thing' on repeat- and the reason is because everything returns to you some how. You isn't Scott. It varies. It probably doesn't, but I'm not going to let myself think that, because it's easier to think that it's a childish fantasy I am using to protect myself from making a deeper connection now. That fear is probably Scott, but not just. It's the one-night stands. The attempts at talking to someone after having such long periods of real connections is confusing and painful. It's not unique, though. I'll have to let go of fantasies at some point and let someone else in. But not now.
I have had a few dreams about Gilbert lately, which is a little weird, because he's not the recent trauma. The only curiosity that remains for Scott though is the itch of wondering whether he still has my old car. Sometimes I think 'I love you' but it's attached to blackness now. Which another strange feeling. I want it to be attached to Scott, because that would make some sense, but just having a deep rooted love for a love that doesn't exist (meaning the image of blackness that comes to mind) is almost unsettling. I've redirected it to the lyrics of Sufjan Stevens, I think. Today I am really obsessed.
But that's not really different- just the obsession is.
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