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                    10:30pm 18/02/2004


  Said to Kneenay:

Why am I an English major? Maybe I should change it. I know nothing about writing.

I find that more often than not, I am lost in what I am.

Today, I talked to many people about things and I communicated heavily. I offered my advice and my time and invested myself in various causes. I have felt down, I have felt alone, I have felt loved, and I have felt content in my malcontent state. I have felt joy and sorrow and memories have been highly abundant. Somehow, I want to tell everyone something that would make it all click.

I want to tell people how to feel alive and how to feel that stupid joy and how to realize that rain is a beautiful thing. I want to feel what I felt that one day I was walking back to the towers and I almost cried because of the trees' colors. I want to tell someone else what it feels like to know that a song is not yours but in one moment, how it can be. I want to tell them how grateful we all should be for living and learning and loving without it sounding wishy-washy and trite.

There is hurt pain suffering anguish torment hell and chaos in our world(s) and in our heart(s) and mind(s). There is confusion and loss and regret. There are memories that should not have to be remembered and there are times when we have nothing to draw on but our own flesh and blood for comfort and strength. There are times when we are lost and when we have no way to recover.

But we do.

Somehow we find the way to smile again and to laugh and to listen to music and

this all makes me think about human beings, how resilient we are and how purely special and flawed we are that we can't take the time out of our day at least once to notice the sun reflecting off of the trees or the way light hits the face of someone we love or how smart we are that we can continuously remember and retain new information or the simple fact that

we

have

gotten

this

far

and we have done it pretty much alone. We are born alone and we will die alone but how realistically lucky are we that we have so many people to draw on during this time? How lucky are we that sometimes no one will understand us or love us the way we truly need it but somehow we settle and we accept and we understand and we

keep

on

moving

somehow

to the end of the line, whenever that may be, that it's our time to blink out and all we leave is this utter void that affects an unknown number of people (because you never truly know how many people you have touched in your lifetime) and that in itself is a wonder; that you never really know what affect you have on society. Sad not to know, but wonderful to know that you do not know.



I had a catharsis today.