I've decided, it's fruitless work, trying to forget and put things behind us. I think we should start embracing everything, like it might disappear. Because, if truth be told, everywhere we look, it's you or you or you. It's an extended metaphor, a never-ending allusion to the people of our past. And then we feel something burning inside of us, that's not quite pain. And we wonder if we can ever be the same. Then we laugh, because we know can't. It's like a permanent mark on a white wall, completely unavoidable. And we want so bad to avert our gaze, to not stare at the disgrace it displays, but we can't look away. Our eyes are so fixed upon it, that it burns a constant picture on the back of our eyes. And there we are, stained for life.
April 7, 2009