february third, 2007 @ 8:13 PM

(from now on, i will only post here:
thedreamsound. bye diaryland! maybe i will find you again someday.)

the luxury of having a pen and paper in this dimly lit kitchen at 6 in the morning. an outlet for my tormented thoughts. we always lie on the very opposite ends of the bed now, some bed that is not ours, hung over in the morning. back to back.

i keep on wondering if you touched her the way you touched me. strong hands covering our small waists. i think about you thinking about her, the way you think about the thrill of having another pair of lips on your own. the way i have thought about my guilty seductions.

i'm not as surprised as i was earlier anymore. the shock has worn off. now i'm just listlessly thinking about how our love is decaying. how we have squeezed, strained and abused anything good we have found in each other. there is no more joy between us. we've taken too much out of a good thing that we didn't stop to nurture. there is a void now, like a dead limb we drag around behind us. i guess we have to let go now. i don't think we can make each other happy anymore.

i don't know why i can't fall asleep. i wish i could get away from you right now. i wish i could scream in this silent house.

sometimes i am sitting in a chair or lying in bed or standing and i get this brief feeling of alienation. it is kind of like an overwhelming feeling, like i am being slightly shaken by some force. i don't feel like my mind and body are one entity anymore. instead, all of my flesh seems to be not my own, seems like it's just dead cells.

it's so hard for me to be happy or optimistic. i just let myself get lost in rush after rush. highs and lows and dreams. i've been depressed for a long time, and i can only distract myself from it. i always think about how all good things will come to an end.

/ ( final entry )