:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Monday, November 21, 2005 ::

[ newsflash: i'm unhappy and artless! ]

For someone who’s lived in it for about two years now, it’s a disgrace that I’m so, so very unused to (and affected by) this feeling of unworthiness that accompanies the acknowledgement that I Am Fucking Up And Hurting Those Who Love me. I ought to be more accustomed to the emotional texture of living ineffectively; while the classes may have come and gone, the motivations that drive what I do remain same as they were when I spaced my way through college, emerging intact through little merit of mine own, in spite of the ostensibly-different tableau of a part-time job without homework or long-term projects.

…I set my jaw, placing what scraps of faith I have in the notion that I’m better off being (sensibly) present and open about how I am, rather than absent-yet-obvious about it…I wear far too much on my sleeve to pull that pathetic farce off with a trace of aplomb.

…I offer the usual run of sincere, useless, infinite apologies (and corresponding meta-apologies, knowing full well that infinity isn’t really anyone’s to give) to everyone, and hope that I find it in me to stop this foolishness before anyone else finds themselves alienated and disgusted.

Now, to a shower, some laundry, and two sink’s worth of dirty dishes.

Music: David Bowie – Afraid. At times like these, most anything with words in it can be matched to a personal situation, like some sort of ultimately-empty horoscope. I recall one car ride around Bethesda in high school when some early Beatles song sent a friend (a brilliant Nick I knew, for the curious) into a wince-inducing frenzied fit of role-projection and hyperextension of vague, early-Beatles romantic situations. That notwithstanding: this song is downright spooky about its lyrics.

:: Aziz 6:59 AM [+] ::
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