derdriui: (Default)
The desire to be renewed is quite intense, quite terrifying. I always fear any idea of loss and, while it sounds like the mentality of rich hoarding, it's just my way of seeing the world in extremes.

At any rate, I'm writing a near-anonymous set of notes, not for any particular reason but for posterity, remembrance, if cyberspace doesn't in fact implode and leave me flailing behind somewhere with a grandiose recollection of paltry, unfit sentences.

Still, and somehow with some distant point, I feel the thrust of progress in some infantile way, and I enjoy it. Never to grow up, never anything so terrible, but the familiar-feeling edges and outlines of it - though, and as graphic as this is, the metaphor rings true, there is that molested fear of accidentally touching, outlining and warming ones hands on trauma - and I suppose it's all lapses and living. Maybe memory will be more clear now, with the imprinting mechanism of deliberateness.

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derdriui

February 2011

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