msjessica's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the words that maketh murder god. one of the weirdest things is seeing my arms, my hands, working like crazy.....
- i was saying.... ---------------
Solitude is a mistree, who you seduce, not knowing what she is really all about. She becomes a dark mistress, a burden, but a sanctuary. How to live without her? An addiction... Keruoac and Burrows talk about heroin, does solitude now become that for us? In this age of so much *togetherness*, so much in peoples face to escape is to retreat, always has been, get your head together. To escape is to rebel. Punk rock now is silence. Spirituality is the new anarchy? - To escape from *social* and *media*. I have been so buried - BURIED. (I used to use that word to describe emotions but now I really see it for something else - buried in experience, expectation, in your very BEING) there is this false sense of social-ality(copyright..) and this not spoken about, but very visceral sense of *togetherness* that comes from social media. it is so false. but...................... there are the stories. the stories that make it easy to live through the internet, to cry and laugh and feel that you are a part of something... and aren't you - through living that, through having that experience, isn't that still life??? "still life" still. life. is it?????? i say i have been buried, and i have dug out and am burying myself again - rejoicing in the dirt, throwing it all over me - smear it on my face, make me muddy, this new, coloured type of clay bury me again, let me die, again. all while knowing, there is rebirth, whenever i choose it (and i won't, for awhile) there is choice. and beauty. and my new, old favourite.... freedom I am here. I am so. fucking. here. 11:22 p.m. - 2012-01-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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