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And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way Weighing my pockets with stones of longing |
I am having a deeply pensive day. I don't think I've done a very good job of putting my thinking entries into this diary; they're usually scribbled on paper somewhere or never recorded. I am having that obnoxious feeling that creeps up in me a little too regularly where it hurts to think because I am overwhelmed by everything I remember. This is why I think I will probably never finish an autobiography, despite my persistence. So I will spend my evening feeling pressured by all of the work I have to do, and find relief by staring at the post-it on the wall that says "BFF!" and think about the post-it in my desk at home on which Sierra wrote "Moron!" and contemplate its profundity. I miss people. I am feeling really curious lately about the experience of the other, and selfish about my own. I want a connection, but I get sad thinking it will never reach a perfect balance of exchange, and nervous and afraid that it can never be one-way. Why do I want so much for people to let me in and simultaneously to shut them out?
A brief philosophical reflection--my tendencies at 2:05 p.m.
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