flash

When I'm looking at your blogs, or writing on mine, or clicking through pages and pages of authors and books on Wikipedia, I get flashbacks from when I didn't eat. Sometimes it's an internet page, sometimes it's Fiona Apple or Silverchair, or a movie, or a particular book. And it's so tempting, it makes me hungry, but a good hungry, a hunger for hunger, I'm starving to starve!

(until it elevates to a place i can't breathe)

I know it will make all of my problems melt away. It will help me shine on. It will help me meet my goals and feel better of myself. But at what price?

(laughter and sharpened nails seem softer)

(Though dreams can be deceiving
Like faces are to hearts
They serve for sweet relieving
When fantasy and reality lie too far apart.)

And nothing is stopping me, because I don't need you anymore. Or anyone. Excep tfor my blogs and books and school and beautiful faces, I am no longer dependent of anything. That's the problem, you know. I don't need you anymore. I've found a new source for my intensity and it's in my head. I have the fuel and the prime mover. I want to shoot for the stars.

(qu'un moulinet de ses grands bras vous jette dans la boue... ou dans les étoiles!)

Really it would be easier if I was lighter... no?

(Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.'
So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:
'Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.')