Old journal entry.
transcript below:
im holding her hand,
and she looks at me with these tragic, tragic eyes.
im supposed to be "so much better now" i promised i would be.
it's difficult because we share the same heart. (i always forget that)
when she gets scared i feel it beating fast,
i can't make it stop without healing her.
But, she's at that age where i thought i knew everything,
she's stubborn,
she doesn't want to get better.
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It ripped the deer's throat out, and the licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection. I thought of you and me.
- David Cronenberg, Consumed.
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from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
“Who will be lost in the story we tell ourselves? Who will be lost in ourselves? A story, after all, is a kind of swallowing. To open a mouth, in speech, is to leave only the bones, which remain untold. It is a beautiful country because you are still breathing”
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plus i know whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better
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transition slide
i was wrong about time, it's not a thin string stretching through space. it's more like a fog, or a wave. Never quite one shape or another. i said i was scared, because it felt like things were changing. you put your hand on mine, and said, "the already have."
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