It’s funny (odd)…

people tend to weave in and out of our lives like crochet needles making more itchy knots
some people mean more to us than others, especially when we mean nothing to them
a JERK can command our deepest sympathies and respect, even a supercilious asshole bastard
a beautiful being can kill us with kindness, because we secretly want to be cultivated with sadist animosity
we love and hate ourselves, both so equally interchangeable we can’t decide if our friends are our enemies or our enemies are our allies
we understand more everyday and feel less
we feel more when we feel less, because we open up more and all we thought we felt was just nervous excitement

terrible it is to speak and we can’t shut up, especially when we have nothing to say, we want to be heard
misunderstood we feel and we continue to misunderstand others in turn
lonely we are and we continue to make walls to fall deeper and deeper into bitter enthronement
our cats want to shit on our beds when we ignore them (our kittens anyway, cats are too dignified)
happy and sad we can feel in a month, an hour, a minute
we can want to be with someone and yet fear it at the same time, because then we will be discovered, and we haven’t yet discovered ourselves
we hate our lives and yet never want to die or grow old, they just keep ticking away and all our dreams get fuzzy
age scares us in every moment, even if we’re not aware of it, because we still want to do something special
influential architecture and interior design are on a subconscious level, like film directors creating a set to spark the imagination and create feelings
the way one talks is often more important than what one talks about, and how we look into each other’s eyes

quickly romantic love morphs into resolute distaste, aversion to what we thought we knew and wanted, distaste for how it begins to want us back
blind self-hate is when it looks at itself in the mirror, and thinks it’s in love
clarifying a reunion can be with a friend, remembering thoughts you’ve had, and seeing a future boosted from the past
simple true love is, when recognized and nurtured, in balance with solitude and respect
complicated it all appears when we want drama, we cease to accept silence, we poke and burn and destroy
funny, sad, and odd to feel alive in this incomprehensible world, growing less comprehensible by the moment…


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