readme

Suddenly it's all a bit too much for me again and I don't know I don't know I don't know what to feel.

Ugh.

What's odd is that this feeling will just be one out of many others when I look back on it and that's the strangest thing about life I think, how the present is the only real time, changed before you've even completed the thought of how fragile it is. And yet for all its fragility it's so fucking inescapable.

I cannot escape this moment, the crest of the wave that doesn't even exist. I'm already different to how I was when I started this post, to when I walked down the hill, to when I said goodbye to Sam, to when Est called.

Emotions last longer than moments, they're the only things, if cells and body and time are constantly renewing, that stay the same through all these different seconds.

Some feelings last longer than others.

Six months down the line, I flick through the archives and find this post, called 'readme' and I'm intrigued, forgetting, so I read this and remember this night in particular when I felt so bad and considered how strange it is to even feel bad at all from one moment to the next.

You savour the time like nothing else, you feel every second pass because you long for them to pass faster, I want it to be tomorrow, the next day, to be somewhere other than this. To the next day, the next problem, the next sick feeling.

The past and future don't exist. Time travel can't exist. Only the present has any link to eternity. And the present feels bad.

To be outside of time. Cigarettes burn down too fast and I want to be somewhere else with scars that don't heal because feeling better is so hard and I don't match up to myself yet.