simple gestures make me that way i guess. my memoir got stuffy somewhere amidst "are you gay?" and valium. it's the little things. which is ironic in a way, because i'm very heedless most of the time, but then stray images reside in my brain and i can never evict them. why would i want to? because these recollections are old material. MOVE ON
me: trying to summon them to the present.
and the tenacious: glued to yesteryear.
i've come to a conclusion. i haven't the slightest idea of who i am, therefore, no idea what i want, THEREFORE, never achieving happiness.
if i was on a deserted island, what would i do?
sobriety vs. drugs
safety vs. risk
dependence vs. independence
healthy vs. sick
relationships vs. sexuality
empathy vs. disappointment
honesty vs. hiding
no one there to judge, opinionate
can i merge them? i'm sure i can. should i merge them? absolutely not
