i moved and i want to move again. i hate my place in a way that it is real. real lame. but it shouldnt be.
i am now working my forty hour week. i am now weak.
i volunteer. and smoke cigarettes. try to fit in a drink. make love. smile a lot. love. a lot. i like to dive head first. but i am not drowning.
my breathing is worse. my legs sometimes feel stronger. but not monday morning. they feel like i lived through a weekend.
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- a. marie
- chasing an inevitable end with no distinct date. what do we really know.
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