DIARY
Entry 13
1999
Morning my love,
YOU... all your life you have waited for all things to spring into life and have deeper meaning; not only the things we all see, hear and name but those we leave in darkness perpetual.
YOU spent yor life perfecting being bland, when you are anything but bland...not in any way cold and neutral... you have twisted yourself to evade discomposure, remaining pleasant and detached; half glad, half sorry for the stainless steel of your composure, and the dispassionate poise of your spirit. ..... knowing with your head but unfeeling in your belly... emotional drought - hollow the internal self save the reverberating echo of it's own silence and isolation.
YOU were lost. This world seems to frown on us for strong personal passions. Why are they so confronting to so many? Intensity of this sort, OUR sort is perceived as anti social... passion puts one out of place with the vast herd of humanity.
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