Read It Now
I think that I am sick of people. Maybe I have had enough of human interaction to last me a while. I don't know how to tell. Maybe tomorrow I will still be satisfied. Maybe tomorrow I will be lonely.

I don't want to listen to songs that exacerbate the monotony of life, that embody the tired efforts of our bodies and try to make us persevere. I want songs to take me out of life, like strings tied to my limbs, as if veins and arteries choke the heart with its own being. Life should remove us from life. I want to fall out of life into my own realms for a while and not talk to anyone so I can focus on things that really matter to me.

I think the reason why I want to be with you is because I want someone to know how I feel when I listen to songs and drive long, empty roads. I hear songs and it feels like life is moving beside me, outside the windows. And I want you to know what I feel like as if I were never understood by anyone and you were my only hope to be real for one moment. To be known.

I will just work and sleep and read and write letters to you. I slip into these moments, I don't know how, that I consume too much of life and I regurgitate all these words. I hate my words like you hate your pictures. I don't think I'm any good for anyone but I look back and I feel like I accomplished something that could last and dwell in people. It feels different to read what I've written; days later I stare at my own words and consume myself without self-consciousness.

If you have been paying attention, you will realize that most of my sentences start with "I". I want songs that make my heart feel lighter so I can sleep. Because sometimes the rest of your body is so heavy that, if only you could feel something, you could collapse in on yourself and meet the oblivion of everything that bothered you.