l'envie...
I have only ever lived the jealous kind of love. A love corrupted by unyeilding insecurities. A series of fleeting, illusive moments forever accosted by self-deprecating questions. I had thought myself better than the game this time; convinced that my fingers had finally found their way around what previously eluded me -- (and sent me storming from the city) but no.
Today I hit a terrible low after cascading a glorious high, and I dont know what else to do with myself but to pen it.
This time around, though, I am staring at it from another vantage point. instead of being the one half-maddened, half-blinded by the other i am provoking him. I am wallowing in both guilt and power. I am cruising many hours of sleeplessness. I am utterley beleaguered by the notion of distance between two people. It is ecstacy, agony, isolation, conversation. the other.
- - - - - - - -I gave myself one year to fuck off & figure it out... & now, as I stand at the threshold of its conclusion, I cannot help but be swallowed by reflection and anticipation. I think I am going out properly with a trip to winnipeg following the physical end of a love affair. I will be driven mad with longing while being held in a firm embrace by the only other faces in this world that could cure a heartache. I am excited to pillage my other life once again come august. I am excited to reclaim my books and my plants and my jobs and my friends and my family.I am excited to feel the wind in my hair on an exchange district step. and have a veggie burger in my belly. I am excited to reaffirm the things I already know while waiting to test the things I that dont.
- - - - - -
but in the meantime: courses are set, timetables map out my fall & winter, and I am prepared to see through my first year at concordia without having the slightest clue how to fund it. hah. womyns studies, broadcasting, radio, print. Here I am. Here I come. make a pauper out of me & fill me to the brim with better understanding. show me another year in montreal.
- - - - - - - - -
time. time. time. time. time. the fact that this year (yes it has almost been a full year) has flown by before my very eyes affirms for me that time is simply a matter of perspective. the countdown is on, wpg. I'll see you in 32. bisoux, LB.
Today I hit a terrible low after cascading a glorious high, and I dont know what else to do with myself but to pen it.
This time around, though, I am staring at it from another vantage point. instead of being the one half-maddened, half-blinded by the other i am provoking him. I am wallowing in both guilt and power. I am cruising many hours of sleeplessness. I am utterley beleaguered by the notion of distance between two people. It is ecstacy, agony, isolation, conversation. the other.
- - - - - - - -I gave myself one year to fuck off & figure it out... & now, as I stand at the threshold of its conclusion, I cannot help but be swallowed by reflection and anticipation. I think I am going out properly with a trip to winnipeg following the physical end of a love affair. I will be driven mad with longing while being held in a firm embrace by the only other faces in this world that could cure a heartache. I am excited to pillage my other life once again come august. I am excited to reclaim my books and my plants and my jobs and my friends and my family.I am excited to feel the wind in my hair on an exchange district step. and have a veggie burger in my belly. I am excited to reaffirm the things I already know while waiting to test the things I that dont.
- - - - - -
but in the meantime: courses are set, timetables map out my fall & winter, and I am prepared to see through my first year at concordia without having the slightest clue how to fund it. hah. womyns studies, broadcasting, radio, print. Here I am. Here I come. make a pauper out of me & fill me to the brim with better understanding. show me another year in montreal.
- - - - - - - - -
time. time. time. time. time. the fact that this year (yes it has almost been a full year) has flown by before my very eyes affirms for me that time is simply a matter of perspective. the countdown is on, wpg. I'll see you in 32. bisoux, LB.
posted by Loco at
6:34 PM
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