12 December 2002 --
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
She wishes she held your hands tightly in hers as her thoughts slipped from her aching throat. But first she'd have to wish for the ability to speak, to form words, and to allow those words to string together in sentences and mean something.
In a different time and place she would sit down, too close to avoid to letting on that she was falling apart, or falling inside, or simply falling far away. In a thousand different lifetimes she's cried, and danced a wild dance from A to O and everywhere in between.
And then there was the day where she reached up high and touched the wings of the birds flying overhead. Fingertips stuck to feathers and she soared off the ground as time stopped. She wanted to tell you how this was life, but she couldn't find the words or even sing the note.
So now she sits here in a cluttered room with an empty stomach and stains on her skin, brightly coloured ink on her fingertips. She holds a rainbow and it leeches colour onto everything it touches. She lost her voice long ago from the screaming and still sees the shattered pieces of her heart swept angrily into that corner. She keeps reading those notes and thinking oh god oh god oh god, what else is there?
And where are you? She tries to imagine you in that same place as she is but bites her lip and blots the image out of her head. Are you there, sitting, scribbling furiously, as she is? Are you sitting and not seeing your surroundings but surroundings past? She has not the courage nor the confidence in her restraint to think any further.
Tell her, tell her that you've been watching.
...ah, December 2002. What a monumental month. Safe to say I was a sad little girl in love!
As I'm slowly going through all my belongings I'm finding bits like this I might share. Not really sure why; perhaps putting theme here is a safeguard against their getting lost.
Yesterday I went to one of my favourite places in Montreal, Parc sans nom, which isn't really a park at all but a fenced-in wasteland that once was an outdoor art gallery. It's just blocks from where I live and I always find such interesting things...
Here is the current "entrance" (there are actual gates, but the locks have been tightened):
Sliiiide.
I'm not sure what this is rubble of, but I do like rubble.
And this creepy little spot:
Or these weird meeting circles of concrete and metal:
Oh hai, hazardous pyre:
And a box:
In other news, I have some stuffs for sale here, have a look and see if my trash is your treasure! 
Still hanging out in MR & would love a visit from you!
Naked yoga, what what!!
Magical evil shoes make me strip!
♥ yulia
I like places 'not in use' too.
- C
I've always enjoyed digging through and reflecting upon what has gone before.