imagine us happy or something

do you mind if we go driving? like we're running away or something...

i'm awash in emotion, hints of mania and restlessness. in April, at the theater, i realized i'm still just a witness to the teenagehood i crave, and sometimes, the things I do feel so wrong. i was thinking about the selfish kind of love. i was thinking about relationships as unpaid internships. i was thinking about finding somebody to practice loving, and how there was no way that could be a waste.

i think about this on every bus ride and still can't imagine things being different from the way they are, but i don't have much of an imagination.

the analogy that came to mind first was the idea of buying houses for my soul. i want somewhere for my soul to rest, if it isn't too cliched. and recently i've looked a bit harder and it was so much more rewarding than before i suppose. i have tried and tried but it's not easy for me to put down the idea of quantity over quality. Because some things are so visible and shiny, and there are so many things to want. 

on the other hand i thought of the version of myself before the benchmark as an invisible one. i wasn't being humble, or angelic, just a sleeping giant, eyes closed, who cannot imagine things he cannot see. Object impermanence and all that. i needed proof of all of it, especially how i hoped i affected you.

the june i was ibsen's nora, i read about leaving you and still awaited your emails. i'd forgotten all about that, actually, but it was beautiful, so beautiful. so i'd put myself in the past and you continue on in every single present; and it's unfair.

i understand, love is hard work, but understanding is different from feeling.