bleahhh;
the last hurrah
& Thursday, July 6
i wanted to write about the bad dream.
i did write about the bad dream.
it disappeared, the prose about the bad dream.
and the bad dream
doesnt seem so bad after all.
if words can run away as if nothing happened,
who can blame the bad dream for escaping.
i know why i write. there's nothing noble about it, frankly it's everything selfish. i wish the intention was good : to make the world a better place and (we could go on forever). but really, it's for me. many people like to say, 'i do this because it keeps me from going mad'. well the idea is pretty much the same here, except i know i'm far from the brink of insanity, guess it doesnt really count then. 'it makes me happy' does not sound correct either. let's just say it is nice putting thoughts into words, even though there are unwritten rules in what you can say, what is taboo, what is irritating.. nonetheless it is lovely and one can get hooked. an outlet for frustration, press the delete button and it disappears (: i'm not sorry.
manyi trashed everyone else, as usual.
congrats, dear friend (:
goodbye
9:41 PM