Sometimes I think I live more in my mind than I do in real life. I've accomplished much more in my fantasies and day-dreams than I ever have otherwise. Sometimes I become confused and I begin to wonder what was real and what was imaginary.

I see now that I am a female facsimile of Simon. I am a machine of meaningless sexual encounters and I fear love worse than death.

I went to see a physician about the migraines I’ve been having multiple times a week and as far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong with me. I mentioned that I’ve been experiencing some blurring of my vision and she says that could be what’s causing all the migraines. Just in case, she gave me a medicine to stave away cluster migraines ( Read more... )

It's practically impossible to think myself a beautiful creation of God
when my greatest moments of relaxation are attached to scar tissue
when my inconsistancy of existance has all but destroyed my soulmate's ability to love
when the legacy of my ancestors lies in a biohazard bag
when everything I touch seems to atrophy and decay before my eyes.

( Read more... )

Recently, I've been attempting to make sense of my memory. I seem to have a head full of isolated incidences. They have no deeper meaning, no themes that bring them all together. Thnking about them is like watching an old pointless movie. And when years separate me from the actual occurrence of these experiences, they seem less connected to me. I ( Read more... )

Every once in a while, an image will come to mind and then will become disproportionate. A person’s image will suddenly seem too large to fit in my head. They will become a giant in seconds. Or their head will swell or shrink to nothingness. A person will become a mouse. A painting will become a city block. And then the image will dissipate ( Read more... )

How can you attach memories to yourself when you have no self?

( a testiment of sexual identity )