moya

I still remember you. Why have you gone.

I have far too many images of Milwaukee. But they're always looking so different, with different lights and clouds, sunsets, and even the sun rises differently. Maybe tomorrow I'll post them all. I love looking at those pictures. They make me think.

So many things are going to remind me of so many memories that I'm not sure I want. I hate how I set myself up for real big issues that are going to eventually break me, in order to make me. Looking ahead, I'm not sure I want to do what I've decided. It's funny how I trust my thoughts and ideas that existed when I was younger. Kind of like guidance now, because there seems to be none everywhere else. We're always supposed to look to ourselves.

I want to go stay over at my grandmas house for a few nights. I want to sit with her in her living room, with tea infront of us, knitting and talking. I'd like to ask her if she's afraid to die. That's coming so soon. I'd like to look her in the eyes and ask her if she thinks she'll make it back around, in whichever generation she's placed in for a new era. I'd like to ask her about this feeling of expiration.

They say I'm lucky I haven't yet burned a hole in the computer screen (otherwise I'd have more debt to pay off). I sit here, and I suppose it looks like I'm almost glaring, staring; where are the laser beams to shoot steady lasers out of my eyes? I'm going to get wrinkles in my 20's because I frown so much, but I can't smile because it hurts my skin. And when I think, I think too deeply, and it shows.

March can't be such a bad month for me. January and February sucked the wind out of my lungs every night and morning.

Something good: I finished all 3 of my pyramids, with the most money I've ever had, and everyone was happy, being paid almost twice as much as everyone else in the kingdom. Except the gods. Don't get bigger than the big guy(s), I guess.