mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary

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exchange it for a crown

So, I fall in love with the wrong sorts of boys. I fall in love with strangers because I build them beautiful histories in my head. Is this an age-appropriate thing, worrying about being alone forever? Is this universal? Crystal told me that she thought I'd probably never find the person I'm looking for, that he probably didn't exist. Was I born too late? Too early? Am I supposed to be a ball of energy floating aimlessly around the universe? What?
Wintertime depresses me. I feel so lonely every winter, like I am measuring each year based on a year I haven't had yet. The closest was I think 2000, Zach and I madly in love and scrambling to touch when nobody was looking.
I've been researching dreaming and past lives every spare moment, these days, like I am going to find something amazing being broadcast to the world through the internet or through a book or through a song. I am listening for hidden messages in music and understanding everything and nothing and I am overwhelmingly ecstatic and then terribly low from one second to the next. I can't do a repeat of last summer. I can't. That is what this feels like. Step one, crazy. Step two, depressed. Step three, walking dead and wallowing in existential angst and ready to paint the walls red.

This is the way the air feels as it flows into your lungs. This is your heart beating against your ribs like a small bird flying feverishly into the bars of it's cage. This is each tiny neuron firing off into black water, this is your pulse, this is your asthmatic hacking cough and your sweaty hands and your aching feet and the headache you have at the end of the day. This is the prick at the backs of your eyes, the lump in your throat, the butterflies in your stomach. This is the way the blood feels as it pumps from your scalp to your shoulders to your ankles, telling you that you are alive. This is it.

Please, please let me remember that.

5:17 a.m. - 2005-10-22

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