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magicforest
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Sohé told me about his childhood. And as his words poured out of him I felt this urge to just take him into my arms and tell him everything he should have been told when he was a little boy…things which are out of proportion now…I love this boy, I love this boy…he doesn’t know my obsession with childhood…childhood reminds me of ice cream cones, of gum, of sunshine and nightmares and oddly enough Ben, who I didn’t know when I was small but who I feel such a mysterious connection to when it comes to things like these…and when Sohé started praising me for my intellect I almost laughed but did not explain why I had made such a sound…for my sixteenth year I went through bouts of severe depression with loneliness…I was in the middle of one when I found blather for the first time…desperately achingly lonely…insecure, ashamed, nothing like any of you know me, I was torn up, I was crying every night and for a week straight all of my dreams were in black and white…for a year this fluctuated, until something would trigger me and I would be smashed into the loneliness again…so many entries in my old journal were filled with my despair…I felt so alone, reaching out to anyone, hating my friends for caring about lipstick and boys when I wanted something deeper and truer, hating my mother for not understanding, hating everyone who thought I was so lucky and successful when I was disintegrating before their eyes from the inside out, alone alone alone alone alone, I thought I was looking for booksmart intelligence but I wasn’t, I needed the dreamers around me, I needed…I don’t know what I needed. I needed that intellectual stimulation, that feels like electricity, pulsating around me, sonic, dancing, flitting around the sound waves, holding me, lifting me, pushing away the caves inside my brain and opening it up, letting my sandcastle out (stolen from ben) dusting off my daisies, bringing me to the light and the life and the soul. I found it unpoetically enough on the internet, in you, in the characters of my eyedreamism, in friends who surprised me and new people who I gave chance to that I would not before out of pessimism and fear. It is simply so funny because for that entire year, longer even, I defined myself as lonely for someone to talk to. As in, when someone says the word lonely I still jerk my head up. It was the throataching chestpain sensation. It was the original sin, it was the first scream. And here he is saying that I could not possibly imagine the relief of intellectual stimulation…no, I beg to differ, you do not know what you have given me. Of course I was less dependent when I came upon you (or you came upon me) because by then I had learned how to seek out the dreamers (many months earlier I found Marx, who was almost as desperate, plunged into a classful of disinterested adolescents, and who will likely never understand why, despite that fact that I don’t think I know him well, I feel so strongly and yet so platonic towards him) but still…it is so very ironic, so very and terribly and darkly and wonderfully ironic, that you should say such a thing to me, I forget that you only know me as the blathereele and not as the girl I know…you see me as so strong and confident and secure and so think I must give something to you…but I am not so unshakeable…the girl I am now, the one you know (supposedly) is so very different from who I was just months before…Sohé I love you…but oh to all of you, don’t think that I have always been this way, don’t think that I will always be this way, I have been to your lows and your highs and to places of less measure, believe me Sohé when I say that you are water for the heart, that I am here always, that it’s not too late to have it all back, and are you the type of boy who knows how to fingerpaint properly?
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031208
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