the habit of being

I’ll never know enough words to make you realize that I love you.

I don’t put much stock in trivialities. I’d like to keep my life a secret, while revealing only the most vivid images which make my vessel home, but it is not as easy as that. Perhaps it is for you. I cannot continue to hide behind my thoughts. I can’t skim off all the muck. Maybe there is some sort of enlightenment to be found in sharing the things you can’t even find value in yourself. James always said he felt closer to me when he told me such things. I think he really can find value in them though; he is beyond me.

Is it better for me to present something easy to digest to the masses or something seemingly incomprehensible that would really touch someone who may actually ride the same waves? Surely finding such a person would more than make up for any amount of lost random senders of complimentary notes. I am changing sides already.

This is my dilemma. What do I do with this web page? Who is it I’m talking to? I aim to write here as I’d write in a paper journal, but such really isn’t possible. I know what it feels like to write for myself. I miss that feeling. I don’t want to lose it completely.