Hello world. It’s me again.

Please don’t think that I am an ungrateful daughter. Although your flowers and your mountains and your vast oceans are as far away from me as your sister planets, I love you as much as your other children. Perhaps more. I’ve been walking all night, trying to find comfort in the dirt of the streets, the shrill laughter echoing in the dark, the lovers walking arms entwined on their way to cheap motels. I breathe the noxious fumes of manila and I ironically feel safe in the turbulence of your darkness. I light a cigarette and look up at a starless sky and I feel wonderfully, exhilaratingly free.

(I’m not free. Not really. And I’m not really happy. Why do you think I never stay in one place? Why do you think I’m so reckless and eager for things and people that would make me feel alive?

Because I don’t.

Because most of the time i feel dead inside and if I’m honest with myself i gave up on life-as-everyone-else-knows-it by the time i was fifteen.)

Dearest world, what I live for now are your moments of excruciating beauty and clarity…however fleeting, these moments are all that I look forward to. If i take a step back and look at life the way most people do; as a steady or even crooked path to a set destination, i would go completely and irrevocably mad.

(I wish that he didn’t have to see me this way. I wish he didn’t have to uncover the truth of me behind the masks that I wore and which I sometimes could no longer distinguish from my real face. This is my hand and that is his and we can be as close as two people can possibly be and I will still be drowning in an ocean two thousand miles away from him.)

It’s morning again and it’s time for me to sleep.

Good morning. And I hope you have a nice day today.

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