Posted by susan47 on November 26, 2007, at 18:41:28
In reply to Reading Over, posted by susan47 on November 24, 2007, at 2:40:39
It's not so much about love, or Loving, in particular, as it is about having hope for living. That's the thing.. when everything else in life is hopeless, and fruitless, and dark and seemingly empty, because the Energy I have to expend, what my Life force wants, is Expression.. damn it, I should have been an actress. I have the name for an actress, why the hell not.
Because that's what life is, it's an act, a play rendered in darkness, only come to fruition, to complete light, at the
end.
Damn it.
So much fear in people, in myself, for the act of Living.
Why do you hate being my muse? I wish I were a poet. If I were a poet, I could write things that would help people, like you, understand. But I can't, I'm too effing direct, my approach is not very poetic, is it .. is it? No.
Today has been a dreary day. Work takes away life energy, a day at the computer is like a day in life, Wasted. Utterly destroyed, distraught, in pain and at the end of it all. There is no tomorrow, for today has never really Been. My life ebbs slowly by, the sand at the end of the hourglass, and so on and so on et cetera intoinfinityinto the end of the universe.
F*ck it.
You don't understand.
You have to have an effing soul, a real heartfelt Soul, to understand any of This.
What you call Life, I call living death. Why do others survive the mundane, the ordinary, the everday, why can't I? WHY THE F*CK, CAN'T I?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
poster:susan47
thread:785322
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20070425/msgs/797195.html