galawala

i don't appreciate that which is explicit, or a rational reason for explaining something which cannot be properly explained through logic. i think that it is impossible to place a price on a feeling, or have an instrument that has the ability to accurately measure emotion, because you can never fully know something in its entirety about another, even if you know them really well, or you think you know them really well, or they tell you and you trust them because you know (or think you know) them really well. so when someone says "i love you" or something along those lines, and the other person wants to know "why?" in my opinion, any answer they give is as incompetent and shallow as those dishes you use to serve pasta in. who decides the different levels of happiness on the smile-o-meter? what factors determine your current emotional status? i have this image in my head of a creepy clown whose smile gets bigger and bigger the happier and happier you get. eiw

what makes you fall in love with someone? and more importantly, how can you be sure that what you feel belongs under that particular flashing neon sign? love is different for everyone - to me, it's a four letter word. it's overused, yet never used enough. those four letters, arranged in that sequence, look like love to me, even if i didn't know the meaning of love. i don't. over time, it's been sculpted and melted and ripped apart and put back together again, with bolts and UHU glue and thread and plastic waterproof bandaids. i believe in what things used to be, in how things used to be done, in the ways people used to think and their capacity to feel things that don't exist anymore, because people aren't made that way anymore. it's like the more they try to improve us, like ipod classics and nanos and videos and shuffles, the more they are taking away from what we could be. things don't have to get better - they just can't get worse.

more often than not, we're looking but not seeing, like that moment where you stare straight through the face sitting before you, and you try but you can't focus, maybe because you don't wish to and maybe because you're unable to bring yourself back from that place beyond the eyelashes and the dimples. it's similar to noticing but not caring, both about what you notice and also the fact that you don't care. everything is a moment, a moment which simply evaporates as if it never existed as a moment - but the fact that it did makes it like no other, before or after. every breath exhaled and every word uttered out loud or somewhere deep inside. and they come and go, day in day out, forgotten and discarded like an old movie ticket or treasured more carefully than the hands of a world class surgeon or pianist.

my head, and this post, and really everything around us - it's all bits and pieces, a mishmash of scribbles and heartbeats and tears, like a pot of leftovers at the end of the week before grocery day.