Bri-ish? Ism?

Never knew being socially anxious could become such a huge problem. Feels like I'm in some fuckin episode of misfits every single time I step out of the house. (The fact that I actually use Briticism in real life doesn't help at all) Every little nervous tick is starting to show. This is a horrible place to leave your things. 

Crawl

If only I could not feel. Not un-feel, just be completely void of feelings. Train's moving horribly slow today. Late for work as usual. The poets were right, love is NOT the answer. Feelings don't liberate. Wall is almost done. 

Notice

As I live the hours, I start to notice things I never did. Like how the train seems to move faster after a certain station, and how I can never recall my journey home. The ache in my right knee echoes the ache in my head. Petrified of how uncertain things are now. I seem to be wading ankle deep in you. Question is, should I venture? Into the cracks and fissures where I might only find subliminal traces of the sun and subtle hints of evolution? I guess that question needs to answer itself. It's not rhetorical though. Bought a May 1999 issue of The Face, along with an issue of CREAM yesterday, planning to re-do my walls. We grow out of certain people on our walls and in our fears. Glad that I can finally look at you in peace instead of longing or contempt. Glad that I was the one who brought myself out of the mess, from begging for you on the bathroom floor to walking past you without even noticing your presence. We are never only born once. Is life not about constant rebirth? The opposite of death is not life, it is birth.