Step / Stop

Step. This key never brings me what I want. Step. And although I never use a different key, I always expect the same outcome. Step. The outcome wouldn't be a problem if it were within the idea of what I had expected to come out. Step. The outcome should be the seed of my idea. Step. But why postulate when the answer is predestined to stray from such demands? Stop.

You cannot accuse me of writing verbatim. This is a practice of repetitious deception - but it is not writing word for word, at least, it is not re-writing word for word. And in my practice of repetitious deception while not re-writing word for word, I act out exactly what I did before. I may not write exactly the same entries, but the heart of the content remains unaltered.

I don't remember being in this place. The most dangerous of doors to open are the doors that close - and that's every door. And why should the doors be covered in blood when blood comes from the inside? The doors are the outsides which lead to the insides - the doors need our insides to let us inside. Just take my blood, and don't tell me that it might be forever. I can't seem to properly imagine anything that I'd want to last forever.

The less you think of me, the more I become stripped of myself. It's as if my very being can only exist if you choose to let me exist inside your mind. I acknowledge that I no longer exist inside your mind, though I have bad faith that I still do. Without the belief that I exist inside your mind, I feel as though I am missing. I am gone until you come to me, and when you come to me, I come back to myself. The waiting is making me wilted. How long will you let me wilt for?

A heart in its wholeness cannot be broken, unless it is given to only one.