Friday, February 04, 2005 // 11:36 PM

im sorry for being, a different person when i am on my own, or a different person when i am with You, the endless mass that is You, the many faces that is You. rational thought is alien territory, but dennis i am pretty lucid when i am with you. firstly because you dont scare me at all, i know.

if you called me up, asked me if id like to talk. to you. im sorry for having been so stupidly afraid, im so sorry for yearning and my eagerness to think so. what this has done to us, while all the while i have said that i have wanted to be a closest friend.

we were talking about Being Nicer People, today. certainly some times i know it is surely over-convenient, to put all this down to nature. sorry to the princess who doesnt even know, sorry to elon who wouldnt even care.

the one thing that could gain my respect, right now. a loyalty that extends beyond the weeks we have had, a complete disregard for all that has been said.

he also said that i must be upset lately, because it's not really like me to be such an unabashed glutton. i dont want to think about posibilities of my being upset, you're just screwing with my mind again. you're good at that, i know, at times in the past i have wondered if things would have unfurled they way they did had you not stuck a notion into my head.

im going to keep whining about rehearsal, because i am ultimately tired and unable to imagine, what it must be like for bernie and zarine, not even being able to leave this occupation for a minute. alfian saat came to talk to us during lit wing today, so casually articulating a lot of things i have thought hard about before. i am fully rubbish at articulation. the things he said gave a challenge to a lot of reasons as to why i dont, things i could probably Logic-Out on my own but would never have the guts to believe. street cred is exactly what i am talking about.

your song hurts, hurts like something too pure to be true, or completely authentic. i imagine how they used to boil a chicken to get its essence, i know you would strive to be flattered. some times i just want to sit and admire, some times i want to be able to lose all time and all space in the things that you say. you know the feeling, when you're looking off a higher platform into some tree-lined civilisation. you know the feeling, you've been in my skin before.

im seventeen, it's official, i'm seventeen. shake my hand but really. i only dont want to talk about this because im tired from rehearsal, im trying not to think about the meaningless of everything. increasingly id like to believe that i have some sort of control over myself, self being the perception of reality, the perception of self, the tireless tumult of emotions in between. you've seen the rapidity of my reflexes, you know the truth better than i do.

im tiring of this charade. because i am not called upon to do this twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. im completely neurotic and increasingly unable to see the point in my concealing it. would silence offend you, insanity confuse? because i dont dare to think about Voices In My Head, i have been able to dream them up, all on my own, once upon a time. i cant help but believe, some times, anything can be true if you believe it enough to be.