A Better Version of Me
<< 9:43 p.m. - Sunday, Jan. 22, 2006 >>
I�m taking these moments to pause, to part the curtains and glance out at the landscape. Lit up in yellow. One of those uncanny changes of light, you see at night through your windows when you�re going to sleep. Cause it isn�t you I see embedded on the backs of my closed eyelids. I don�t know why. Cupping my always-clammy hands from across the table and smiling so warm. You are still my Oxytocin love.

I have to save the world and write about things that are pretty. Maybe I should write more often then.
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And it�s all hidden behind the incessant thumping music in my room. It drowns out all the copious thought I know would envelop me if I turned it off. Maybe it�s the fact that I don�t know what to do with my life. I hope I don�t eat all my preachy words and end up doing the same things every other liberal American does. Brenna and I talked about it for an hour at least. Where we want things to go. What we want to do with our lives. That�s the thing we don�t know. I�m following the train tracks toward a college degree, and I don�t even know what the degree will be in.

I don�t think we were meant to divide our lives in little separate cubicles the way we do. I feel like I have different faces with my friends. Like I divide all these people into separate worlds without remembering that they all exist together. Physically it�s as if I have some milky contacts covering my eyes. I can�t concentrate, I can�t see.

Duh, life isn�t like the movies, I think I figured that one out by now but I�m continually shocked by the lack of �special-ness� in my life. I�m shocked by the lack of amazing moments where I have some kind of fucking epiphany about my state. If I have one these days, I turn the computer on to capture it and forget it by the time the program opens up. I wonder whether the state of newness ever comes back. I want it back sometimes.
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