Dear God

Feels like no one believes in me.

Hurt

I feel really hurt. I feel my heart, heavy. It's so heavy. I think this is sadness. Sad to see that this isn't working; sad to see that nothing is working. The ice berg that floated our way. We have to break it. We have to break it before it leaves us. We have to break it and save their souls. God, I wish I knew what I was doing.

Today

Bastard child won my heart.

Telephone

Ugh. I want a new number. I hate phone calls. I don't remember what made me hate them so much. Maybe the awkwardness of the conversation lasting too long. Maybe the eeriness of an anonymous number. Maybe the caller.

Counting Every Moment

Recently this has clouded my thoughts. It took over every open space and every cramped crevice. I like that word, crevice.

I really dislike age. It doesn't mean anything. It counts the years you've been alive but how much you live is uncountable. Consider two babies born. One born three months early, three months too young, three months prematurely. Another baby is born three months after the first baby. Although physically, the two babies started at the same place, suddenly the first baby is older. Then that means that age is about counting every moment you live. Then if you truly are older than someone, you've lived more moments. If age really is counting every moment, then it should have nothing to do with years. Eighty million moments playing a game you'll get bored of. Eighty million moments dreaming that dream you'll forget. Eighty million moments eating that pie you'll digest. I don't believe everyone gets to live the same number of moments. I don't believe age is truly measurable.

I want to live every moment I can possibly live and let it be as old as my age.