...................................for, I 'll tell you,
If too immoderate sleep be truly said
To be an inward rust unto the soul,
It then doth follow want of action
Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing,
Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing


waiting... waiting... yes, it rusts the soul, and though i may like sinking into warm, dark sleep, how much rather i'd be staying awake with good reason! and though slothfully i may spend days indoors, how much rather i'd be out walking!

perhaps i am fickle. observe how a soft "bye" calmed all those storms i thought so strong? observe how that yellow spark kicks at the thought of that other laugh. it is more than possible that i just like the attention... is it just that i think i have no other option? is it desperation? is it lonliness? or is it real?

waiting... i have no patience. though really, waiting is only so straining when you think what you are waiting for might not happen. and every moment is at once an anticipation and a disappointment. and with every moment that passes and it doesn't happen it at onces becomes more possible that it will the next moment, and less possible that it will at all.
why do i live my life underneath contradictions always? it drains my energy.

ok so it's been a while.

whats been going on? hot tears and mild winters i suppose. silver crosses and black hairbands. glowing orange leaves falling down gently all around my head, the company of magpies then blackbirds then crows then a lone buzzard. finding myself smiling to myself accidentally and all the time. diamonds... diamonds... sparkling... the light through my bedroom window - the pink sky. "whether it is the spirit of woman or the spirit of greatness i know not... i owe her much of pity..."

i suppose in this period of relative safeness i can say that its the butterflies in my stomach that i can cope with. perhaps it's even safe to say (though this may be a lie) that i can cope with the crushing weight that comes with mild disappointment, that comes with the unknown, with not knowing, with not being able to see clearly, or at all. that is all becoming familiar to me now (like when i first found myself in the film processing cupboard, and in the pitch dark just out of habit i kept holding the film up in front of my eyes, trying to see it though there was no light. after a couple of times i stopped, and just did it by touch. you can get used to not seeing.) but i cannot say that i was expecting the burning heat in my heart. i know my body pretty well. it has never done that before. i am used to feeling emotions in my stomach, in my throat, even in my hands. yes, occasionally, my heart will jump, or skip a beat, but never has it burnt before. heat radiating outwards... i thought i was wearing a red tshirt, but it was actually black.