I have taken some decisions and made some promises these last weeks, then backtracked and thus hurt a lot of people. I am also a big coward and refuse to talk to them, I cannot give them at least the opportunity to leash out. This is no way to grow up, I am incapable of assuming my choices and their consequences, so I always take the easy way out, being it by lies or outright avoidance. I realized I treated written or spoken words lightly, I give them without meaning them. In important or insignificant situations. Words that give me so much pleasure when I read them in fiction or listen to them as music. I give them and manipulate them and demean them and disgust myself and others.
I would like. I want to try. I really should keep up with my resolutions this time. To keep words short and true. To be true to them myself. To be rather cruel and stupid than a coward and a liar.
The fear makes me want to puke. My disgust with myself was making me want to puke myself out of my body. I couldn't look in the mirror.
To treat words like acts – like one word could kill or cut open the flesh literally. To treat words like blood – give them out only when necessary.
Out of automatism, I wanted to add here promises and actions projected in the future. Yet another resolution – word out past rather than future actions of mine.
Destruct myself, I hate what I've become am becoming; reconstruct myself new and pure.
Time isn't for sale, not like I thought – I give you my time and do stuff and you give me money. Because this time I spend for others isn't otherwise recoverable. It goes for good. Oh I see, time isn't money, it is a gift to give and to receive and it should always be enjoyable for all parties. I am a foreigner in a just world. Actions and reactions here aren't always apparent or hidden. Sometimes action is apparent, its reaction, hidden. Other times, it is the contrary. Other times again, both are hidden or both are visible. A thief can lead a long happy life or he can die right after having stolen. Or even right before stealing, before even making the decision to steal. Or yet again he may not be born at all. I have come into this world, I don't know if I have entered it pure or impure, if I am paying in advance for my mistake or only paying my debt. I have made terrible things in my eyes and in other eyes as well, I've not accomplished anything, I am learning. I hope. I feel learning isn't enough without the final exam, whether I pass or I fail. I must take that final test and the tests that preceed it, otherwise learning is sweet, but fattening. Or worse, just a mirage of the true learning. Because I went to all classes but last, last year, I never went to the final exam, and all that time given and received turned sour, then empty. The year has passed and I'm still here, trying to learn.
Writing and talking out my mistakes are a type of evaluation. Cutting back on my words, on chocolate, sleep and clothes, also. These are my faiblesses. I am not speaking about, I am not speaking my next exam because it does not exist yet. I've yet to enter the examination room. I act what I speak. I speak what I act. I try. Because the world is a big big place and there is room for hidden thought desire doubt. Lie is an insidous thing, it can hide in this space between thougt act and word, or in plain sight. Truth also. Truth also is an insidous thing. I breath more freely now. But. But I haven't entered the examination room. Fear is toring through me like a screw. Courage would take it out of me quickly, but it wouldn't be gentle. That is my fear. I am learning about literarity about being literal. To return to the origins to be pure naked blanched. I am literal and thus metaphorical lyrical. Truth and good are beauty why not having seen this before why having stopped before beauty. I am stupid and I take the still surface of the air for a brick wall. No. Honesty is beauty. Right and wrong is beauty. Standing erect, standing up for yourself, standing is beautiful. Bending can be beautiful too. But I need to stand now.
