bury/beauty

I miss myself.

But the HILARIOUS thing is that I am not quite sure I've ever known myself. How can I miss someone I've never met?

The shortened days and this old winter coat I seem to be living in offer a sort of protection from everything I do not wish to confront. It is easier than I imagined it would be to live within the imagination. It's a labyrinth inside my mind (minus the muppets and David Bowie) (add in a couple of black holes).

Confessions have become easier and less scandalous to me. I will tell you anything, just ask. I will still bury my head in the sand, sure, but only because I like the way the waves feel.

Beauty lies just beyond our grasp.