it's 10:18 pm, on September 20, 2004 - diet, reprised.

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Part of a murder mystery story I will probably never write, except I already kind of wrote it, a little, went like this:

I sometimes think I want to die because then I would be permanent, I would be solid, I would not change. I would have boundaries on all sides, there would be no more information to input. I would just stop. It would be possible to collect the pieces of me together, point to them, and say, "look. She is complete."

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Daniel, aka Mr. Mystery, wrote me an email a while ago with the statement, we are defined by the things we don't do as much as by the things that we do - maybe more so.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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