futurebird's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The wreckage is a part of the message. �Will you run away with me?� How can I say no? I�d rather have someone (who I loved) ask me to run away with him than to marry. For me, these are the magic words. Let It Be Known. The crocuses are pushing up through the dirt behind the art museum. Spring is inevitable, Summer is inevitable . . . change is inevitable. People say I�ve changed. They say I�m much nicer-- this distresses me. I never wanted to be a nice person. There are too many nice people and not enough angry people with hearts full of love. Being nice? That means you don�t care enough to be passionate-- to fight for what you believe in. It�s deadly. I�ll have none of it! I think I�ll run away with myself some day soon (barring any proposals, that�s fantasy). I�ll run myself right out of my mind. I�ll enter an imaginary infinite winter. I�ll push back the cold with the heat of my body and I will be a very very angry person. But, that won�t stop the real spring from coming or enable to me unlearn all of these hard lessons that have turned me so plain and amiable. I�ll still empathise with people and hold my tongue. I�ll still talk cautiously about politics and religion-- even though the people I love the most shout out their views and don�t care if they leave scorched feelings behind. �The wreckage is a part of the message. Your anger means we are really starting to talk.� That�s what I used to say. I can�t remember the last time I got someone really livid at me. I can�t remember the last time I was deeply livid. It�s hard to learn anything without losing your head first. I want to be more immature, again. 19:37:36 - 2001-03-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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