severance

It is true until it is said.

I have to take a few words out of my head and throw them in the trash can. I wish I could draw.

I want to invite many people to 'the restaurant at the end of the universe', the previous universe, and tell them that I am more or less gone. There's a difference between curiosity and caring. Under that distinction, now a days, I am a machine. People remain connected by inertia, prejudice, illusions, denials, microscopic short sightedness which refuse to see the whole truth under blind love or blinds I have drawn down. An understanding has come from within and all perceptions from outside have to rebuild themselves. Trying to project a new image wreaks futility. In most cases it is language that stands in the way, overlapping with a refusal to utter a syllable. I have not answered personal calls for a while. Curiosity, energy and insecurity all give way to an indifference and unwillingness. I don't know what to talk anymore. I understand work alone, though I am disinterested at present. The water here, still and shallow, is mixing into the invisible inevitable draft of life.

I am letting people go, as finally, just as I hoped, I am let go. It would have saved guilt, if it had come early enough to beat the indifference. It is not even I and the world, it is only the world, my skin is punctured and hollow.