It's a new home for now. I still haven't wrapped my head around this amazing city, and believe me, there is much I need to wrap my head around. This city bursts with creativity;I came to Montreal expecting some US-satellite-city. I was so wrong. You notice it from your first step in - there really is a different vibe to it, a unique feel. I swear I walked into The Room of Requirement the other day on St. Laurent, and it turned out to be a thrift store where the salesgirl offered us lemonade shots. Yum. There is much this city has yet to show me.
here's to you and me, and this year, and this life, and all that happened. and here's to you and me still here, and here's to the day before. Here's to this fucking city It's never going to be the same
I have often thought of what I would say to you if I saw you. Whether spitting in your face would be an adequate measure to express the sincere hatred in my heart. I actually cannot come up with an adequate measure. It's hard to label your feelings as this or that...I have moved on from protecting and sheltering, to running but you have to understand this is only because of the personal attacks leveled at me. This fixation on 'virtue' and chastity, this talk of women being tissue papers, it sickens me. Resistance is an exercise entrenched in futility.(I despise hypocrisy)
The human heart is a fragile place. The mind is just another cog in the machine - its is a verb, not a noun, and it's sole purpose revolves around repeatedly trying to erase the indelible scars the heart's suffering leaves behind. People say experiences are enlightening, all of them. I beg to differ, I can't sleep anymore, and I can't write or love the way I used to. My fantasy has now transformed and involves me running, running, running, running. I do not see these as particularly beneficial developments. Some experiences, are counter-productive.
I'll grab anything to soothe away the pain (I despise desperation)