R = 0, T = 1

I've been completely immersed in my own little world for a good while now. Making connections with shared realities has been somewhat of a stinging slap. I'm only starting to experience it as that perfectly placed bite on my ass... I am not yet able to handle large doses. I find myself having to come up for air more frequently. 

The interrupted moments of pollution are starting to leave their mark. Another scar of some other thought that defaced my fantasy. If only I could let myself be. As though there are two of me, the brilliant child, who's company is desired and who's paintings we proudly hang with flawless lighting. The other child, who just doesn't seem to measure up, and left miserably alone, finds solace in the attention their disruption creates. Eventually they'll heal. Time hasn't taken leave for me yet.

I surround myself by entertainers, and what a delightful one have I just created. He exemplifies nearly all the things I'm currently trying to achieve. I find myself studying him as we dream of flirtatiously trying to enact our planned method of manipulation, and write the story of what happens next. It's fun! I think about coming around more. Just to re-experience the brush that painted laughter, as he simulated pleasure while eating my candy. He's one of the few that keeps my hesitation locked up. Our shared reality is not that foreboding, maybe we were meant to meet at this juncture.

My journey to find peace within myself has granted me a teacher. I think mutually even, another perfect symbiotic relationship? I've been struggling with circular reasoning, and am still blocked by unfinished theories. For some reason everything fits to adjust what happened after that, and it's making my rationale a little woozy.

Distraction is dancing with me. Distraction's been dancing with me. I'm in an energetic performance, trying some how to stand still. Focus was my date, I wonder what happened to her... Why does Distraction's dance last so long?

I'm nervous about walking into yet another world. Composed of shared realities with people I don't even know, but we claim love because there's blood. Every time I go, I want to return immediately and yet, each visit grows. I can't pinpoint the culprit of my anxiety, and somehow replace it with reason... How foreign am I?

->I wrote this in June of last year (2008)