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1:42 a.m., 2002-11-21

i told him i saw you today.

"ugh, that must have been a drain," he said knowingly.

i shrugged, "seeing her isn't a drain, it's a sewer."

it's gems like these that make life more livable. i hide things from myself with the knowledge that someday i will make my day.

and six days ago i decided not to do it. after all this time, not to put myself through it. not to rethink it all, dig out all of the documents, the contracts we drew up, binding ourselves to those tunnelling, troubling thought processes. all of the empty posturing. all of the meaninglessness, the creation of a weird and loping symbiosis. i let the coals go grey, and for a time it felt right. it felt unforced. until small things infiltrated my blissful ignorance, until stupid, ridiculous things groped at those old turgid, diseased areas itching to be lanced. books caught my eye. one book. hardcover. i moved some of my profuse clutter and slid it from the shelf. as it came forth a flutter of paper spilled from between the hardcover and jacket. and with that i made my day. and with that i was taken back to those days.

what it has bacome and what it actually was are two drastically different things, and this i can be thankful for.

this i can finally recognize.


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