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Jun. 19th, 2010 | 11:31 pm

Y. and I took a wander out here at lunch earlier this week. It is one of my favourite spots in the city. It feels miles and miles away from everything, and I can literally forget that I have a job to go back to after the hour is up. It's just this amazing empty wide expanse of space and concrete by the water where ships frequently dock, and I love to see them come and go.

Sitting by the water makes me feel free. I'll be sad when they finally build something over it.

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Growing Old

May. 12th, 2010 | 12:19 am

Last night, while lying in bed playing an online version of Scrabble and slowly falling asleep on the phone, I thought to myself, This is how people grow old together.

I am safe and loved.

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Apr. 2nd, 2010 | 09:06 pm

It is a strange experience saying goodbye to someone who used to be one of your best friends; there is a collection of good memories at the back of your mind you can't bare to let go of, but the distance that has developed over time seems much too far to build a bridge across.

So, you just don't.

You simply look at each other with eyes that are wistful and knowing, eyes that read everything and say everything. Wishing things could be different.

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I Know How It Hurts

Jan. 20th, 2010 | 08:04 pm

Photo: Unknown

I think trying to fix things beyond repair, trying to tip-toe around the broken shards of glass and fit them back together somehow, must be the most heart-breaking act of love.

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I'm Coming Home

Jan. 9th, 2010 | 11:15 pm

I have been looking and looking for a new place to write for what seems like months (years). It's a bit like house-hunting; a neat, tidy, warm home for my deepest thoughts and feelings. It just has to feel right. And so here I am again, returning to an old journal, years later. I almost feel like this is the wrong way to do it, it seems like regression, but it will have to do. Because I'm not sure what I was looking for to begin with.

I'm tired of all these thoughts weighing down my head, all these little words caught at the back of my throat, desperate to tumble forth, somersault over my tongue and dive out from between my lips.

I've been afraid to write for a long time now. I won't lie. Both scared of writing, and scared of never writing again, all at once, as contradictory as that sounds. Part of me was holding out for starting a new blog, and in the interim - I've been herding my nomad, aimless words around on my notepad, in my e-mail, on the edge of napkins. But mostly, I've been avoiding it. Avoiding the swirling thoughts and storm of emotions. Writing things makes them real, makes them part of a past you can't deny or erase. But the past and life itself were never meant to be pretty and perfect. I'm still learning that.

You can't have peace by avoiding life, says Virginia. I know this to be true.

I wish to be unafraid.

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still alive but barely.

Dec. 24th, 2006 | 08:34 pm

i miss this place.

i'm still alive.
just barely.

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Feb. 14th, 2006 | 06:26 pm
mood: coldcold
music: depeche mode; somebody

i watch a homeless man
across the street
play his accordian, slowly

and i wonder
is it loneliness
or years?
that made his notes
so hollow.

(i am wearing black and red. black for mourning. and red for you.)

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