Sunday

This used to be your life

You didn't come out of dust. You've been here for a very long time. Carried in your ancestors. You are half of your mother, and half your father. Some of your grandparents, some of your great grandparents, some of your distant aunt who lived a thousand years ago. Traits and looks carry on through person to person. Whomever they may be, I like to look at it like that used to be your former life. Now, reincarnation isn't far from my mind, either, but I'm not absolutely positive on those views. I suppose that's why being related to someone famous in the past is so stellar because you came from that person so you must have a tiny shred of them left in you. And it's nice because people recognized this person's talent or drive and it was so strong that they became famous. Lineage is such an awesome thing to ponder. And I couldn't have come from anyone better than my mother! What an awesome person.
love, polly

Cigarettes, wine, and a numb that isn't so comfortable

I'm holding a freshly lit cigarette in my left hand, and the red wine I bought earlier that day. As I roll through the town I feel so empty and hopeless: those jumbled along with heartless and a tingly numbing feeling I like to think of as lust. A lust that has been lost, of course. No, I don't feel a thing as the people look into my eyes for some kind of recognition or approval. What do they want from me? Do they want my soul? It was a sheer struggle for me to be there at all. It didn't matter how many times my friends hugged me or told me that they loved me. I felt nothing and wanted to rip down the world with me in a twisted black hole where not even the dimmest light can survive. Thank god for spring, or else I might have been a zombie. At least I can carry myself with a shred of dignity when there is color outside..

I'm completely alone at a table of friends, I feel nothing for them. Nothing.


You know, sleeping occupies most of my time these days. 
love, polly