You’re more comfortable that way, making longer stories short. You want to arrange things, draw conclusions, give them an introduction. You want to take pieces of your life and structure them on pages. You want to take people and make then permanent. You put them in black and white type. Once they’re concrete it’s easier for you to accept.
You don’t share, not easily. You’ll write your most intimate thoughts for a stranger to read, but those closest to you don’t know those that live inside you. You want to emancipate those inside, you want to let them live outside, for other people to see, to move them from your haunted house that no man has dared explore. The nakedness feels more comfortable when it’s one removed.
These words on this page are glowing because the truth in them resonates so deeply in you. You want to die happy. You think that’s the only way to live. That’s the only logic you can assign to life, the only goal you have.
How do you do it?
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