I hate to complain. But I am very good at it. I want to live in an ideal world and no world is ideal. I want to close my eyes and take care of myself. But I don’t take care of myself. I expect care from the world when I don’t offer it to myself.

*

It is strange to want to make yourself so agreeable to others. I used to think that meant taking a piece of them through association and grafting it onto yourself. Making yourself agreeable so that you can. A monstrous thing on its own. Now I know it is giving away too much, cutting off your limbs piece by piece, and holding them out to anyone who comes close.

*

Taking your time. It’s hard to feel what I want to feel with others when I’m doing the opposite of taking time. Rushing through conversation. All developments inevitably become stalled. I don’t want anything else (or anyone) to be in my head when I’m having sex. Maybe I’ll go into the park and sleep until visited by rain.

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