Sunday, March 26, 2006 // 1:06 AM

all the friends you thought you had made

i'm trying to understand the possibility of a world not contained in words. to let things wash over me, without feeling the need to articulate them, to identify them, organize them. the hundred and one therapeutic things to do, the dancing in rain, the scaldingly hot showers, the stillness of silence. there's something about poking at these sensations with words that just fails to do them justice.

i tried to imagine being an adult, last now, on the way home with terence. the mundaneness of things that results from the dulling of senses. i wonder if it is really all that bad as i dreading anticipate. if the dulling of the senses mean a lesser kind of living. if the dulling of the senses happens at all, or is inevitable. i'm a little afraid, to be honest, of this idea that i someday will stop feeling things strongly. will be unable to dream, will have my wanderlust, my fascination with things robbed from me.

i suppose. how many friends, real friends, does a person need, anyway. probably not very many. someday when you crash something awful, or it comes to crunch when everyone has to split ways. all the friends you thought you'd made. but how many friends does a person need, anyway. i could count all the people who have been real friends to me on one hand. okay maybe two.

when i travel, i carry this: a deep desire to find something missing in my life. and when i arrive, there it is again- a longing to return home.