Things that make me reasonably happy

Call it what you will but depression, to me, is just clarity. If I don't start keeping track I'm likely to be swallowed up by it.

1. Taro Bubble Tea
2. Old Pictures of my mother
3. Seeing movies
4. The smell of Nuetrogena "Rainbath"
5. The look on my dogs face after he fetches a tennis ball
6. Afternoons by myself

indefinable

My mother started crying when I called her today. This is a glimpse of my future, as I have regretfully submitted to the fact that I am a copy of her and will be doomed to her fate.

My entire life has been a pattern of loving people who will never want me, and of giving to people who wouldn't notice if I disappeared tomorrow. & I will repeat this cycle until one day I stop living. I'm convinced that nothing in this life can captivate me enough to distract from that bitter truth. The road from now until then is just a series of minutes being pissed away, and fuck the lot of them who can't understand this, I don't feel like explaining it to anyone.

I'll see you on the other side

I would like to channel you.

Best Movie I've ever seen

Sometimes you have to roll the hard six.

I feel like before I meet someone new I have to issue a statement. A caveat emptor, if you will.

"I am sad. I've been sad my whole life and I will continue to be sad. You can never change that. You could never save me; it's not your responsibility. Even when we're happy, even at the happiest moments, the ones that make you feel complete and at peace with the universe, you will look into my eyes and know that I am in another place that is neither despair, nor apathy, nor anguish, and you can never be there with me, or pull me out."

and, well, if you can't live with that then you might as well get out now.

When I was younger my uncle taught me how to "swallow tears". You know when you feel like crying? and you can feel the emotion welling up inside of you? Close your eyes and swallow hard, he'd say. You can feel them moving from behind your eyelids to your belly. I've been swallowing tears my whole life. I've been swallowing tears so long I fear there is an entire ocean inside of me.

Nothing really belongs to you; it's all borrowed.

"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."

alone in this world