Tuesday, October 8, 2013


When you are lending, you are not giving. When you are bending, you are not breaking. To give of myself feels as if I am breaking or will break in the future. I'd rather bend and fit into a rubber mold where I am safe and protected and above all hidden.

I'm a sloppy socialist at best, for on my bad days I claim indisputable power over my heart and mind. My heart is a library book and my time will include a fine if you go over. Let's keep our record clean.

Walking this fine line undermines the delicate beauty of true connection. There is none. There is none when there is no one and I am colossally slow at figuring this out. How can I dive in to abandonment? Diving in implies one has already embraced the idea of abandonment. Diving in to what frightens us ultimately frees us. Abandon the fears, but also abandon the hope.

I talk and think and write in circles. I circle words I don't know in pages I haven't read yet.

We aren't supposed to take pen to the pages of library books. They are to remain spotless. I have an eraser, though. It bends as it makes the unknown disappear before I have the time to solve the mystery.

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