From a letter I wrote W a few years back:
Thursday, February 28 2002
Sometimes it's this simple, and sometimes it's so hard, and sometimes you are raw with the wanting and the trying, and you don't understand how it is possible that the things that you want are not WILLED into being, simply by the sheer strength and persistence of your desire.
Sometimes you breathe, and sometimes it's too much effort just to suck in air, to keep your body functioning, and you wonder why you keep on doing it anyway.
Sometimes your hands are beautiful, long tapered fingers made semi-translucent by the light passing through them, fluted bones wrapped lovingly, tightly, in muscle and golden skin. Other times they are clumsy and lose their grip, and you watch things crash through them, tumbling out of your control, with despair.
Sometimes you're worth something, and other times you wonder if you were ever worth anything at all.
These are the times that make up a life. These are the moments that fill our years.
You know that life is fleeting. You've heard all the clichés. You've witnessed it yourself - you still remember with vague surprise the way everything used to be so big, so amazing, and can't really remember when things began to shrink to fit your grasp, and wonder started leaching out of life. Yesterday you were five and today you are twenty-one; you can hold the shoes you used to wear in the palm of your hand.
And your years collect in your head, an amalgamation of sensory and analytical memories. Life is so short, you think. Let me only remember the good things,the perfectly still moments, the loveliness of living. Let me have these things to carry with me as I pass on, as I go through.
But instead you remember your mistakes, the way you crawled, the dust that lined your mouth when you fell. The taste of blood lingers long after the taste of honey fades. It's so easy to forget that there was ever light, that you were ever so luminescent. It's so easy to overlook the fact that you are, randomly, capable of beauty.
This is my task: to force beauty upon myself. If things are not beautiful in and of themselves then I must make them shine; and if there is the possibility of something sweet I must hunt it down fiercely and not let it go.
People think it's shallow to be happy, but they're wrong. They've gotten it backwards.
I used to wish that I had no memories.