You're gorgeous.  Beautiful.

Never change, unless it means something important to you.

...actually, never do anything unless it means something important to you.

This one will be difficult.

Let's lay out the main assumption:  We think in logical strings.
For example, the difference between someone who thinks random words or phrases and someone who thinks in some form of coherent string is the difference between Schizophrenics and "normal people".

Thinking about this distinction, it's not too hard to wonder what qualifies a "logical thought"... Consider this:

A "logical thought" is a completed circle, if a portion of that circle is removed, than the thought wouldn't be thought in the first place.  The reason for this illustration is because of the following:

"Purple hippos pizza june followed twig horses."

... that phrase makes no sense.  But the real notable thing, is that it's comprehensible under the context that it "makes no sense".  The phrase "makes no sense" is the final piece to the "logic circle".  By knowing it makes no sense, it makes sense... on some meta-level.

 

Ever wonder if you cross other peoples' minds in the same random, intruding, even haunting way that they cross yours?

Why, hello, old friend...

...it's been, what... nearly 4 years?

...I've missed you.

1: if I'm actually answering the question
1: imagine me as simply as possible... there's two of me
1: the first being the dude you'll run into at the Hub and chat with
1: the second being the guy that you're comfortable with enough to talk and share stupid stuff and secrets, etc
1: (of course, the second has to be comfortable with you also)
1: everyone could be watered down to this if things were that simple... agreed
1: ?
2: agreed

1: then perhaps we're in agreement that the first is pointless except to get to the second one
2: perhaps

1: nothing important to me has happened while I've been in "first half" mode
1: if it was important, either I was already in the second, or it pushed me into the second
2: Nothing normally does
2: yeah

1: some people, I'm convinced, live entirely in the first
2: It's possible.
1: It's possible!  perfect, that's good.
1: I prefer to live entirely in the second... which isn't possible.

2: hmm

1: if I were 100% genuine with who I trusted, who I didn't...
1: what I really thought about everything, etc...
1: Eh... people wouldn't be comfortable around me
1: and I guess I wouldn't be comfortable around them
1: I wouldn't be talking to you now unless we both had played the "first half" game at some point...
1: so I treat the first half like I would treat anything given the circumstances:  a set of tools to help engineer experiences from the second half
1: ... this sounds wickedly stupid and contrived...
1: but if it makes any sense, then it's kind of how I feel about it
2: Actually
2: it does make sense



...a couple things:

I don't care much for titles, or it seems not as much as most people do.
...and I hate those things that you feel like you need to do, but part of you regrets it as you do it.

...
The world is changing before my eyes,
the only thing that's surprising me is that I'm surprised.

Nothing is the same.

I'm waiting for the time when it all clicks back into place, for the moment when I can feel sure about some thing.  Anything.

It's worse now that things have become less pointed.  The cause will forever be known, but I find that it's harder to attribute all of the insecurities and ambivalence on an individual aspect.  Time seems almost irrelevant.  The last couple months, a blur.  I'm only moderately sure that things did come crashing down, and I'm only as sure as I am because of my feelings of ... gray.

There is nothing that is okay.  The facade we all use at work and school seems to be leaking into my personal life.  I put on a show not for anyone else, but now, too, I perform for myself and my own security.  I can't be sure that it's working.

Occasionally, I retrace my steps.

You are the godzilla to my tokyo.  You put your hands over your eyes, stomped on through while you thought of yourself, then as a final kick when I was down, you apologized and claimed no ill-intention.

Meanwhile the music plays, and it all seems so contrived.  Like this soundtrack was created intentionally to keep these thoughts in my mind.

Yet, from the wreckage of my city, signs of life are detected... but I find it hard to trust myself with the incubation.

...because I'm scared.  For me.  For her.
...because I can't be sure if I'll ever care for someone like I cared for you.

My watch says it's only 9:43.  It stops and starts seemingly randomly.

It seems oddly appropriate.

I'm tired of wondering what you're thinking.

I'm tired of this new-found curiosity for what you're doing.

I'm tired of seeing parts of you in other people.

I'm tired of all of this sparking memories of "the little things" that I miss or that I took for granted.

I'm tired of hearing you in song lyrics.

I'm tired of you acting like this.



I'm tired.

there is something surreal about music that envelopes you
your eyes unfocus, background noise fades away
you aren't hearing anymore, you're breathing it

It's like when someone holds your hand for the first time.  You might still be walking, the conversation is going on, the world is still turning.

...but your world stopped, and none of it matters as much as your hand being in hers.

It's all so quiet.
...perhaps one of the reasons why it's so special.

This situation is bad.

I have a habit of turning feelings that result from things I can't control into anger.  I even realize that it's a defense mechanism, but I can't control it.

I can rationalize my way into and out of anything... and I can't stop.

I don't want to hate her.