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Saturday, June 11, 2005

The absence of any weight acting on my pressured brain has created one, right through my heart, drawing on every breath. I have five more exams, but they're not for over a week so they may as well not exist.
Limbo's funny.

Reading John Updike, my own thoughts feel more full and rounded. Every subconsciously phrased, personal message seems to me beautiful and worthy of paper, but I don't have any and so they drift away. Cinders.

Rabbit Run was so complete and dense. Some of it was horrific, but mostly it just seems true. I know he's a man, but when he writes about women it strikes me as true.

Lots of things seem true to me though... As far as I can tell, women, men... Not like I'm in any real position to judge. But I feed her love and it grows and grows and grows. Her voice reaches out from inside her chest and tells me secrets; secrets that she passes off as nothing.
For a while, men were just bastards and women a million times subtle, and superior. Now no one knows where they're going.

I don't even know now. Like Rabbit Run. All I know is what I feel. Like the Unbearable Lightness of Being. I never get to repeat my actions, so I'll never know what was best.

People just try their hardest. I don't know. I felt like writing, to see if beautiful words spilt out. They didn't, really.
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