it just makes my stomach hurt. this unbelievable feeling of disconnection i feel with most everything around me. i know that inside me there is the possibility of connection, the very reach hands to hold someone elses and take it all in. |
if i weren't so afraid i would be searching and making it happen. once someone told me that such things aren't a matter of luck, and they aren't a matter of attraction, and they weren't even a matter of beauty. rather, they were a matter of ambition. to make things happen, rather than just hope.
and i know this entry is supposed to be about the awfulness of other people, but really the only real awfulness i see is in myself. it's crude and it's frightened and it's a cliche, and for all that, my stomach is in knots, i am twisted up and almost wholly beyond help.
if only i could gather up the ambition it takes to be someone real.
Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien