there is a hidden message.

i answered no.you asked again. i answered no. again. there's nothing i
want to say. maybe things i should have said, could have told
you, but i didnt. you kept asking me, as if there was something. you gave me a hint
to probe my memory. it seemed important, like you were doing me a favor to
let me get something off my chest i could have been holding in. you gave
me another hint. it hadnt even occured to me. it wasnt something important to say before i had to go
i want you to find it.
so i dont have to tell you on my own.

Comments

Sweet Nothings

You know me too well. you break these daily boundaries these walls i tried not to build you pave the way for happiness in other conciousnesess. I had a dream last night. It was beautiful. And all because of you

mother

i don't know what it is but i cant stand you anymore. maybe because I've been with you for 6 weeks straight. then i got two weeks of freedom, glorious freedom, and it's hard to come back to living in this house, with you, with whom i now associate all the wonderful memories of arguments that you could never bare to lose, the days spent waiting at each corner for you as you lagged behind inconsiderately taking pictures. my friend told me last night, in alcohol fuelled praise, that you were real. that she had incredible respect for you. and i just couldn't agree. you're real only in the sense that you let us know exactly what is on your mind without bothering if it upsets us. but you don't take the time to listen to me, to consider my opinions, because everything anyone else thinks is completely illogical and a waste of time. you can't grasp that you're views aren't one size fits all. they don't work for everyone; especially not me. You can't...

Here's a secret for you;

I have always been fascinated with the human body, but more so the female body. I think of it as beautiful and artistic. Ever since I was young I'd been subjected to the naked female form. Swimming pool showers and older women walking nude. Being taboo, my friends would all be so scarred and afraid to look. But I'd been subjected to it at a young age, and grew accustomed. Being around women who weren't ashamed to be exposed opened my eyes, and gave me an appreciation for this work of art hung in flesh. And so I find that drawings and paitings of naked women are just so beautiful. I can't explain it more than that. There's nothing much more beautiful than a women who isn't afraid or ashamed of her body. [from rue des images ]

rude awakenings

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