she is not from this world. she is a breath of vacuum.

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Today I've been in an oddly negative mood. It's been one of those days that irk you, regardless of any good news. I've been finicky and uncomfortable and exasperated the entire day.
It frustrates me.

I did, however, watch a lovely Japanese movie. My favorite scene is embedded below.











Yesterday night, around 3 am, old haunts came back and I had trouble sleeping. I remembered old friendships, and that horrible, unbearably feminine insecurity grabbed my wrists and kept me from writing, painting, doing anything. I felt so ridiculously devalued. Anger flared before receding into continuous waves of self-hate.
It hasn't been a very good week.




















Perhaps the problem is that I do not even know the right questions to ask in the first place--I do not, I cannot, begin to understand the manner in which I should turn inward, towards the root of reasons. I don't even understand the fundamentals; my fingers are barely touching the fringe of the self.









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