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4:37 p.m. - July 09, 2004
There are no quiet moments
Thereís a song out there with the line youíre nobody until somebody loves you. Been thinking about that today, unsure of where I heard the song and caught up once again in the mystery of the human brain. I worry I canít be loved, that there is something fundamentally flawed with me or in me, overwhelming and dirty that doesnít go away. The curve ball is that I think this not when Iím single but when Iím not, with the predictable Ė absurdly, pathetically so Ė result that I feel most uneasy and dirty when someone is trying to get to know me.

Iím closer to 30 than 25 now and I wonder, I pray and I yell and I want to know for sure if I get to live the way I want to live. I donít want much, just a footbridge across this chasm between Me and the outside. Writing a book is easier than going out to coffee with a guy who thinks Iím cute. I donít understand why and pep talks about being happy the way I am, of finding a nobler purpose to life, or getting off my ass and doing something all make sense and are as meaningful as charging someone to clear the beach of sand with a paper cup.

It isnít self-pity but something deeper. Itís the electrical grid that powers the lights around me, brilliant and beautiful and enthralling, like gazing in wonder as at a museum object. Admiring from afar is the closest one gets. This is how it is for me, even though I know the image is wickedly distorted.


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