c o n n e c t i o n - 99/06/27
I was on the subway today, coming home from downtown and sitting with my good friend. We were talking about isolation and it got me thinking about it. I mean how connected are we, as humans, really? We try very hard to know other people but in the end, we know very little about each other. That led me to another idea - conformity. No matter how much we try to be individuals, we can never truly be so because someone somewhere is probably doing the same thing.
"There is no such thing as true individuality, only varying degrees of conformity."
I don't particularly believe in any god but the conception of god, I think, stems from the need for connection. God is the antithesis of isolation.
y o u - 98/11/15
There I am, twisting the cap of my pen in my hands, not really knowing why I'm there - why I chased you instead of staying in the cafeteria, safe with the people I knew. You're smoking, you're obviously trying to get close to me, to make me open up and I think I want to but somewhere, I'm still saying STOP. It's because of other people, I know, what they think of you and I try to stop thinking about it but somewhere, I know that I am beginning to agree with them. I'm becoming like them and when I do, I can no longer naively sit with you in a coffeeshop without feeling uncomfortable. So I'm still sitting here, with the pen in my hand doodling, trying not to look you in the eye. I want it to be simple and I know it can't because influence lingers like the scent of cigarette smoke on my clothes.
s t u p i d - 98/10/03
The cover of my notebook says Costa Rica and I faintly know where that is. I can't deny that I'm upset but it's not the kind of upset that I'd normally get if a friend ditched me without warning because that kind of upset ends up with me planning some sort of revenge. The "everything is going to be all right" kind of upset. But that's not it. And I'm not upset at P, not even disappointed because P DID warn me about P being a "jerk" and P WAS sick the day before. No, I'm disappointed at myself because I promised myself I would never be left out in the cold, waiting. I claimed vehemently that I "wasn't that type of person". So why was I still there, pacing back and forth, warming my hands on the halogen lamps embedded in the already stained cement? I just want someone to want, and that bothers me.
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