deconstructing life

I deactivated this blog for a myraid of reasons but there are only two as to why I am reactivating it indefinitely.

1. Someone I love told me that he's been following my blog(s) for six years now, and that when i stopped writing it felt like he was divorced from me. And it struck me that if I stopped blogging I start alienating.

2. I was told I am a closet romantic by a friend with a small romantic head. In his words, too closeted. Between being excessively, overly, too or just romantic, I've decided that my weariness with exhibitionism, even on facebook, will be tried only with friends.

catch me at http://kiwishots.livejournal.com/ friends only, sorry!

heheheheheheheheheehehehehehehehehe

-----
Oh twice as much ain't twice as good
And can't sustain like a one half could

am leaving the country alone today. parents and the sibs are out of town. i l(ea)ive alone again. feels surreal.

daniel dropped me a message today telling me that the communists are okay but to stay away from the rightwing protests in athens. OMG this is a dream come true. cept begs the question of whether all socialist governments will turn wayward like that.

someone called atilla sent me an email from turkey *giggles*

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Pablo Neruda

SCREW (YOU). SCREW YOU AND YOUR SELFISHNESS.

dear mr. tired,

maybe if i admit my exhaustion in this space that you could share in it. maybe if i told you that the noises drown out all semblence of me that you could emphatize. maybe if i told you that my shoulders are breaking, breaking because my frame can't carry the imaginary complications, weight, on them that you would spare me. maybe if i told you everybody wants a little piece of me that i can't give that you would take the piece that i could. maybe if i told you that i just want to pack this entire life in my suitcase and run run run away that you could finally let go, and leave me alone.

just please leave me alone,
shan.

first loves, time past and lost innocence are tonight your loving eyes and tired sighs
 

i've run my muse. today i wrote the saddest note i have ever written, in reaction to the single most hurtful thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life. i have run my muse.

I always used to tell him that only fools could possibly escape the simple truth that now isn't simply now: it's a cold reminder. One day later than yesterday, one year later than last year, and that sooner or later it will come.