when i wrote to rid you from my bones, god

no it really hurts. god this really hurts. fuck that bold and resolute james, who wanted change so much. who sought the forests for creation and enlightenment.
fuck you, james.
fuck you, time.
fuck you, impermanence.

i've been too distant from myself to realize what it means to travel into the future. to separate the triumvirate, to no longer manipulate the La times.

i've been too determined to stir up change by shock therapy to feel the shock. my life was a bathtub, i added the hair drier, and, smirking at the lack of change, stepped in the water.

it fucking HURTS.

and fuck anyone who made this time less enjoyable. fuck allford for making us lose so much of our fleeting lives.

if i believed in you, god, i would be cursing you for creating such an impermanent universe, for liquifying life and thinking that that was ok. why couldn't you be smarter?

i dont want them to go. i dont want them to go.

i hate that i've always been too afraid to feel, and that so many people will never know just how much i loved them.