i love to me

it has come to my attention, or rather been brought to my attention, that, in addition to my sheer cockeyness and mild self-loath, i exhibit certain certifiable vindacated tendencies.

hmm, well, that sounds about right.

usually i walk around knowing i'm hot shit. i dance. i play. i take pictures of faerie dwellings and participate in solidarity dinners and sing rather prolifically in the car. and the bathtub. i am quirky and unpredictably loving. i flirt really loudly and enjoy every lustful, delicious moment of it. i am random and frivolously spontaneous. and every day i marvel at all the uncontrollable, indestructible, breaktakingly simple beauty that exists all around me... the vibrancy and passion, the creativity, the hope...

it is natural and i am peaceful.

recently however, i have become a cynical, sarcastic, irritable, vindacated person. i mean, i am even starting to run out of pens for stabbing people in the eyes. what the fuck?! when did i get like this and how did i end up here?! the truth is, i faltered. got lazy. stumbled into a self-perpetuating monotonous acrimony. or shoved into, really. it was a self-defense mechanism, a languid response tacitly silhouetted by teetering emotion and disarray. i didn't mean to end up here, but everywhere i look these days there is abjection and discontinuity and broken hearts and broken countries and broken families and broken ribs.

lives are broken everywhere. and we are restless.

i am contradiction.
i am complexity.
i am immaterial.

i love to you.