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Apr. 30th, 2006 09:11 am
slowlyunfolding: (Default)
I have nothing to talk about. I just sit here and think and dream and leave barely touched cups of tea scattered around the house. Everything seems to be the same, yet altered, newer, and older. Even the cat is disturbed, and meows us awake in the middle of the night. Cursing, cursed, curses fall from our lips like stones, and we fall, faster and faster. The ground keeps receding as our velocity increases. My feet are cold, my lips are thinning, my hair is tangled, my my my ...

My new liquid eyeliner can outlast sleep, duvets, and pillows. I look startled when I back away from the mirror. I seem to startle less and less, but my face remembers the pattern all too well. I have stopped staring at people. I don't need to figure them out, anymore. It's also too dangerous to stare people in the face, here, now. It becomes a challenge, and I'm not that interested in fencing anymore, eyes locked, brow furrowed.

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slowlyunfolding

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