writing on black paper

iiiiiee??

it seems much more comfortable to write on black paper... we only believe what we were taught, and then we believe the opposite. stranglehold, is that a meaningful relationship? drowning? what if i really was separate and had no anger/empathy for anyone, then i would float. its not like our roots stretch with age, we don't go deeper into the ground only farther across it and taking up space. i remember writing a really horrible angsty poem, but there was a good line "gravestones like bookmarks in the ground" or something along those lines, how long have i believed in my pointlessness, did i ever think anything else? its always been you, me, every person i see is chipped furniture with "Free" scribbled on it, Somebody keeps loading us up and carting us here to clutter the world. how many "rustic quaint charming" cookbook stashers/plant holders/bathroom organizers are absolutely necessary? sometimes i feel like there is a stage and a fantastic show on the stage and i am pressed into the splintery crook of the stage craning my neck towards the performance and there is such a bright light in my eyes... do you feel that way? do you feel yourself slipping out of yourself away from yourself... the minute changes in attitude like which way the corner of a mouth points, after so many months you are different and you don't care at all or you care too fucking much. stability is a joke and we are under the illusion that a blue pill will change our circumstances, and when that doesn't work we just need a little extra attention, we need to be nursed because we have been wounded. if i was making sense you would recognize what i am talking about and want to take a screwdriver and dig it out of yourself because you know it is there. but its not that bad, back off a little bit and nobody else notices too bad and you still see movies every friday night and are still a relatively good person and do not live in a third world country, you have tasted. you have tasted. in fact there is even a library in your town, and you drink mochas and drive around town or slouch against brick, and most likely you have friends or at least people who tolerate you, and maybe even someone who likes to be with you very much. so i am just being moody. i've had nine cups of coffee since friday night, and seven hours of sleep. :)