drove home the long way today after meeting sharon downtown . . . gave me lots of time to think and reflect on the turning of the seasons. i always feel so many things this time of year, the end of summer, the dying of the light, the sun hanging lower in the sky glancing sideways through the moribund trees, the shifting sense of realities, and on comes lion/lamb and it brings it all up again. after spending a long stretch reflecting on how unhinged i must have been (i guess ironically in the creation of all this, too, but on it goes) i am suddenly craving once again the kind of attention emma gave me years ago, the feeling that there is something unnameable contained in this album that only we understand, the fact that if there was any truth in that (and there isn’t) i guess we have to keep continuing on understanding that secret thing alone, separately, and how unbearable that is, the fact that i may be going down, spinning out of control again and there’s nothing i can do about it, the fact that everyone eventually leaves or i leave them, emma, claire, mimi, roxane, richard, dylan, dawn, my whole fucking family, the fact that mim died and dawn more or less laughed and that she will never know what that meant, the fact that i have wondered so often how emma might have felt about that, the fact that i have wondered so often if emma had ever wondered how i might feel about that, every single time that i hear her voice, the fact that i never really understood what precisely immune meant to you and i still don’t but i can probably guess, the fact that alan seems to have a deeper speaking voice than me but sings way out of my range, the fact that katya might explain all of that to me tomorrow if she’s still talking to me after i started talking about clitoria quite unnecessarily, the fact that i made emma throw up that time, the fact that i could never recover from that moment, the fact that i never deleted the files like she asked, the fact that it took me ten years to fully appreciate what a shitty thing that was, the fact that was it me that was stalking her, the fact that she seemed to be done with you when you joined that cult and i could never recover from that either, the fact that her last email seemed more motivated by fear and trying to manage how unhinged i was while she was grieving her whole heart out, the fact that i still responded like a fucking idiot, the fact that she was always so much of a better writer than me, so polished even when being clandestine, and all i can ever do is leave behind an even bigger heap of abandoned shit like this, the fact that i was only ever writing for her and honestly that might still be true, the fact that she will never read it, the fact that megan falley hates alllowercase because you’re not ee cummings and she’s right but she will never understand what it meant to be on livejournal in 2003, the fact that i still can’t, the fact that i see things totally differently now and don’t appreciate how i was treated but still want that feeling sometimes, the fact that i still wish you the best, whatever that can mean after what you’ve been through, the fact that i told katya that diary-x was where i learned to code and i don’t know if anyone else knows that, the fact that now i think of it it was most likely emma that taught me my first javascript and it’s possible that nobody knows that, the fact that i probably just stole snippets from her and bastardized them, the fact that i don’t write javascript anymore, the fact that i could never think of charlie and lola the same way, the fact that that’s so fucked up and i don’t think anyone will understand that, the fact that you might feel the same way about that and there’s some bitter fucking solace in that . . . .
komorebi