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Wednesday, August 29, 2007


In the middle of the night, I float around the quiet house like a ghost, stuck between wanting to fulfill my death wishes, and wanting to be alive. It is a floaty feeling of nothingness and eternity all mixed into one.

I cry over broken things. Things that break, then break the next other thing, and then another, forming one whole broken thing. It was meant to be broken entirely. I cannot revive something that has already gone off, like rotten food in the refrigerator. All the same, it makes me very sad, and no one will ever realise the loss together with me. No one.

I am going to continue floating.

While I do that, I might as well enjoy myself, while I await for nothing and eternity all mixed into one.

Are you invisible like me?

I am often stuck in these ghostlike situations. Maybe I don't know it, but those feelings of death I recently felt, were real, they really happened. I really died.

So many other breaking, broken things too, not just the one, two, things I described. I am no longer forlorn, but ethereal. A mosaic of broken mirrors and junk-like items, while I try to author and fashion them into beauty, and fail yet again and again. Ethereal, because I see everything in these mirrors and junk, nothing and eternity all the same. I am no longer forlorn, because I have art. Art of life, a mixed media sculpture of broken things.

Can you tell I am not really making sense? Not really being here, does this to me.

I am going to enjoy my quiet, now.