sad sap

and he whose soul is flat,
the sky will cave in on him
by and by.

i am beginning to feel sorry for him. an amazing sentence, when i reread it. this is a thought i didn't think i would have. he remind's me of kafka's gregor; reacting to stimulation, waking to sleepwalk through the day, never opening the windows and letting the cold air bruise his lungs. where do the emotions go? i read him like the shell of some crustacean, the hard brittle surface, never revealing the soft pink stuff within.

i have not yet caved in to the thought that a life could be lived without the soft stuff within.

i read him like the character from a movie, from any movie. weaving random facts into his web, random pictures, trying to form a cohesive imagine in the minds of those around, including his own. if i can only pretend hard enough perhaps it will be true, like pinocchio, like patriclus. what suffering there must be in dishonesty with the self.

it's cold like autumn, and our birthday is Tuesday. i have been so thankful lately; how fortunate i am. even when some small misfortune hits, a piece of me remains aware of that. the people that you surround yourself with are such an important influence. choose wisely.