Apparently I don't need sleep anymore.
cipher's (Current) Top 5 Albums:
1. I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, Bright Eyes
2. Mechanical Animals, Marilyn Manson
3. Thirteenth Step, A Perfect Circle
4. Antics, Interpol
5. To Bring You My Love, P.J. Harvey
2 of those have been consistent for more than a year. Interesting.
It's ridiculous, the ways in which you'll miss her.
The little brainworms that skitter out of solid ground and race for your head, the ache.
These ways include:
- The ten zillion things she gave you, scattered throughout your apartment, in every room. On your bookshelf. In your dresser. In your goddamn record collection.
- The weird frequency with which you'll find yourself passing her apartment on various errands. Or, for that matter, passing places you spent time together. AKA seemingly everywhere.
- Those songs that you love, and loved to associate with her. Now the associations are stuck, but you still fucking love those songs. So you listen to them anyway. And listen to them.
- And listen to them, hoping for the erosion of memory. Allowing the days and nights to slip further away, into the darkness, the haze. Touching from a distance, further all the time.
- Letting it happen, because it has to. I been trying to write about my past few years, and everything is so murky. My memory sucks. Which means, and this is the worst part, that two years from now I'll scarcely remember it all. Just an assemblage of dates, events, fights, facts, feelings, all rarely considered, all half-remembered and half-real, like a dream.
- Eventually, maybe next month, maybe in July, mayhaps not until November or next February, eventually I'll wake up, live my day, and fall asleep without thinking of her once. That will be the first day, but many will follow.
- Eventually (and this will take much longer), all those things that remind me of her...won't. How to disappear completely.
Fuck it. That's what I want to say. But it's not fucking fair. I was, just before all this, finally happy being alone. That's not an easy process to go through. I'm going back to the start.
Also, it turns out career moves, even the most subtle kind, are extremely stressful. Actually, just using the word 'career' in a reasonably serious way is stressful. Somebody pinch my butt, make sure I'm not dreaming.
cipher's (Current) Top 5 Albums:
1. I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, Bright Eyes
2. Mechanical Animals, Marilyn Manson
3. Thirteenth Step, A Perfect Circle
4. Antics, Interpol
5. To Bring You My Love, P.J. Harvey
2 of those have been consistent for more than a year. Interesting.
It's ridiculous, the ways in which you'll miss her.
The little brainworms that skitter out of solid ground and race for your head, the ache.
These ways include:
- The ten zillion things she gave you, scattered throughout your apartment, in every room. On your bookshelf. In your dresser. In your goddamn record collection.
- The weird frequency with which you'll find yourself passing her apartment on various errands. Or, for that matter, passing places you spent time together. AKA seemingly everywhere.
- Those songs that you love, and loved to associate with her. Now the associations are stuck, but you still fucking love those songs. So you listen to them anyway. And listen to them.
- And listen to them, hoping for the erosion of memory. Allowing the days and nights to slip further away, into the darkness, the haze. Touching from a distance, further all the time.
- Letting it happen, because it has to. I been trying to write about my past few years, and everything is so murky. My memory sucks. Which means, and this is the worst part, that two years from now I'll scarcely remember it all. Just an assemblage of dates, events, fights, facts, feelings, all rarely considered, all half-remembered and half-real, like a dream.
- Eventually, maybe next month, maybe in July, mayhaps not until November or next February, eventually I'll wake up, live my day, and fall asleep without thinking of her once. That will be the first day, but many will follow.
- Eventually (and this will take much longer), all those things that remind me of her...won't. How to disappear completely.
Fuck it. That's what I want to say. But it's not fucking fair. I was, just before all this, finally happy being alone. That's not an easy process to go through. I'm going back to the start.
Also, it turns out career moves, even the most subtle kind, are extremely stressful. Actually, just using the word 'career' in a reasonably serious way is stressful. Somebody pinch my butt, make sure I'm not dreaming.
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I enjoy getting to know you better.
[Edited on Mar 02, 2005 7:40PM]