Far and far and far — yet but a speck upon the cosmos.
I have felt significant, and have thought I knew so very much;
yet I could not control my very own heart, small as it was.
Reflection
6:44pm wednesday, 13th april
Once you really find yourself, you will discover. That it was all just a game.Sad so Sad.
reflection
1:37am thursday, 14th april
I'm still alive but I'm in the grave.Strawberry, She' is pretty' but when you die and you have to saay.
reflection
1:41am thursday, 14th april
Yes I got scaared,Yes I hold respect for ou.I can tell (Silence).
reflection
8:50pm thursday, 14th april
Man, schizophrenia + 20 beers = Koo- Koo.
Anonymous
9:41pm thursday, 14th april
Control the heart? Good luck! Some would define matters of the heart and the in-love state as the ultimate insanity. When ideal, the emotionally charged heart-induced state of romantic love enters into another dimension of grandeur and euphoria. On the opposite spectrum, it can evolve into the ugly emotions of hatred, jealousy and murderous rage. Unrequited love can create self loathing and the sense of unworthiness; not being deserving of love. The in-love state can defy the intellect and erode the judgement allowing one to forgive the unforgivable. This altered state can result in financial ruination; giving away all worldly possessions to an undeserving all in the name of love. The greatest literature is based on the foibles of real life and the resulting illogical acts performed when the heart escapes our reserves and is free to love. Matters of the heart are a powerful ungoverned force. If it is infact the emotions that distinguish humans from animals, we must still be in a state of evolution since we are certainly not yet perfected.
Strawberry
1:43am friday, 15th april
When I was dating my ex-husband I wrote him a love poem for his birthday. It wasn't any sort of poem I had ever written before and I doubt I could ever write something so passionate again. It was dense, packed with imagry, and four pages long. It took me about three months to complete in full. No doubt it was the most creative thing I have ever written and maybe the finest.
I got a nice little blank book and cut out pictures to make a collage on the cover of a smiling moon and a fairy. Inside I carefully hand wrote the entire poem in precise, block letters. For our entire marriage my husband kept this book on his nightstand by his bed. Sometimes the book got a little gross because of the dust covering it. He kept it near but he didn't have a clue as to what was inside.
I mean, he knew it was a love poem, but he wouldn't read it. He only liked to read People magazine, Elmore Leonard, and the Anne Rice vampire novels. My writing confused and bored him. I remember there was a Vanity Fair magazine lying open that I had been reading. He picked up the article my page was turned to and started reading. After several minutes he looked at me and said, "How can you understand this? It's like it was written in another language."
So, deeply in love, I wrote a poem for a man who was deeply confused by most everything I wrote and maybe a bit repulsed and frightened by my literary high-brow style.
The one happy thing to report about my poor epic poem is that two years into our marriage, at a McDonald's fast food resturant, he read a copy that I had printed out on my computer. See, by that time he was willing to open his eyes a bit. He trusted me, and more, was now enough in love now to make an effort......he said my poem was "sweet". "Did you understand all of it?" I asked breathlessly. "Yeah." he said.
A little white lie. And maybe at the begining of our relationship I told myself a little white lie too. I told myself that my love didn't need to be understood, that what was important was that I KNEW my own heart. The poem could be a shout into the universe, unheard by the man it was intended for, and I was going to stay warmed by the fire of my own loving effort.
But 'tis not true. Because then, over the years, I grew lonely.
Reflection