words are no longer anything

Be a filter, not a sponge.

It feels like this:

I know Patrick will be around, but I'm afraid that since he isn't sad, he won't want to spend time with me.

Isn't it strange the times people choose to be generous. Isn't it.

How do you feel infinite?

Why am I doing this again.

You have no idea how much those simple words meant to me. I had no idea how much those simple words meant to me.

We all say to not look into the past. But we look into the future because of the presence of one's past. We all say not to dwell in the past, but we are always dwelling in the experience and memories so that we may go forward knowing either you will find the same positive things or different and more hopeful things.

Words are no longer anything.

Should I believe you? Will I allow myself to believe you? It wasn't you but I have believed words once and words were nothing.

It's like I would die for myself but I can't live for myself 'cause I've lost so much faith in words.

But I'm still writing. I even imagined myself at one point to write all those letters like that.

Are these the letters, just like those?

The tricky thing is, the way it was written, it was for the reader, for me. for you. There's nothing anonymous.

But then everything is also anonymous, isn't it.

But, as messy and ambiguous as everything is, I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be. Maybe it IS because I accept the love I think I deserve, even though I don't know what that is.

Or maybe it's because I don't know what I deserve.

I'm gonna go to the airport one day. I'm gonna stay there for a few hours. Quite a few hours. And just watch. I want to see people reunite. I want to see people run to each other, the kissing and the crying, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all the change; the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone. Because there's not much of these in my life.

I write about what I lived. Words other than those are no longer anything.