Day 6

She was in my dream last night. I didn't actually see her face, but I knew it was her. That's always an interesting thing to me. I rarely see fully faces in my dreams, but I always know exactly who it was when I wake up. It's obviously my subconscious, so the feeling of whoever it happens to be's presence is readily apparent. Context: I was sneaking out of a performance that my friend Elizabeth was putting on for reasons based wholly in it being too-theater-y, essentially. I was walking towards a staircase headed down from at least the second story of a warehouse. I walked just past the entrance to those warehouse doors that are on a sliding pulley system, and she was sitting at the back of the crowd on the ground (as was everyone else, obviously. read: "too-theater-y"). Again, I didn't see her face, but I had to know if it was her. She was facing away from not only me, but the performance in a very unnatural way, which was curious. Once she started to turn, I continued down the stairs because I think I was avoiding her. Maybe because of this whole fortnight break I knew that I was supposed to not talk to her. My dreams are very professional. It also became a completely different dream

My writing will continue to tangent appropriately with how life fragments. Isn't that obnoxiously poignant? I just came from from my Sunday night ritual of going to the poolhall here, since it's free all day Sundays and bars/restaurants/establishments share my understanding that the day doesn't change until everything is closed and you've gone to sleep. Sure, it's Monday, but, it's Sunday. As I've made this comment many times before, I'll say it again: It's rare that I'll wake up in the same day that I woke up in prior. Man, that sounds really obviously and fucking stupid. Damn. I had a pithier way of explaining it, but my poolhall/stood-for-9-hours-physically tired mind, can't put these thoughts together. SO. I'll get to my small point. I had many a moment earlier where I couldn't stop thinking about what it'd be like to be in a functional relationship with someone. To really share my life with someone. To share our lives with each other, really. There could be egotism around and in the details, but there'd be adjacent awareness, I'm sure. My feeling of comfort for her is oddly varying and not stable, if that makes sense. I mean, she makes me comfortable in the sense that we wouldn't have to be sitting around for a stasis to exist. A stasis could come from physical exploration with reality and each other. I'd love to explore being in a relationship, and I can't think of a better woman to be in one with. Fuck. Hahaha, nothing is consistent here, is it? This is still weirdly calm for me. Maybe my awareness that nothing will really come of this is keeping me calm. Maybe I really love hypothesizing. I think both of these ideas are completely true. I've mistakenly taken a lot of things really seriously because I've been organized into a mental system that says to live your life a certain way. But. Nothing is set, nor should it be. I've been thinking about this often; if her and I become a possibility, I think I should go for it. Right now, I honestly think we should talk about it awhile. HA! Awhile. Awhile. Awhile. What a throw-away word. I mostly just mean standing behind our radical honesty policy. I wish my fingers knew to automatically annotate when and how I scratch my eye-lids or tussle my own hair. That would make this far more interesting to read and much less non-fictional and pandering to the fucking person who wrote it, you masturbatory fuck. Eh. Alright. I'm gonna wash the smell of smoke and self-loathing off, though it will surely linger from the clothes it bathed in the past couple hours. Day 7 comes in a few hours. Technically a few hours ago, but, read: so much shit I said earlier. Goodnight, self.