Everybody’s born with some different thing at the core of their existence. And that thing, whatever it is, becomes like a heat source that runs each person from the inside. I have one too, of course. Like everybody else. But sometimes it gets out of hand. It swells or shrinks inside me, and it shakes me up. What I’d really like to do is find a way to communicate that feeling to another person. But I can’t seem to do it. They just don’t get it. Of course, the problem could be that I’m not explaining it very well, but I think it’s because they’re not listening very well. They pretend to be listening, but they’re not, really. So I get worked up sometimes, and I do some crazy things.
I think there is something beautiful in reveling in sadness. The proof is how beautiful sad songs can be. So I don’t think being sad is to be avoided. It’s apathy and boredom you want to avoid. But feeling anything is good, I think. Maybe that’s sadistic of me.
I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger than reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
to any one that understands that feeling; when you feel really healthy- your skin color is good, you don’t want to throw up, your head isn’t aching, your heart is at a normal speed, and when you stand up too quickly you don’t want to kill everyone around you or pass out and die; you feel great, you love it, but then you know how well it is and you want to poison yourself; smoke cigarettes, drink too much coffee, hit your elbow against something so you become outraged, bite your lip more than you should, take the knife and instead of putting it in the drawer, find out what color your blood is when exposed to oxygen, ~