18.

Irony. I randomly look up maggot therapy while my aunt is going to get an arm amputation. All irony isn't funny i guess. I feel like I'm isolated, my only connection the steady pulse of water hitting vulnerable skin, flesh seething under hot, merciless water. It's strange that i am only profound in the shower. It's strange, when I feel so emotionless before. The rush of water makes me feel, alive. Water=life. Since when has my life become a piece of literature. Is it to be ripped apart by some lit major itching for symbolism. What am i a vehicle for? 

Have you ever had one of the those moments after you read a line so profound, You can't breathe? You have to step back and catch your breathe (like it even left you in the first place) absorbing it in. You don't fully comprehend it, but that's the beauty, the mystery of everything. Nineteen Minutes was full of them. At the end, it was so overwhelming i felt like i was in a Bell Jar myself. 

Whispers. My thoughts are lacking cohesiveness, so bear with me. 

"Gangue Green" 

"Live. Try. Love. Die" 

Distant laughter.

Isolation.

Pointless conversations with friends, now strangers.

Live Need Yearn Bleed.  

I had so much more to say, but it all escapes me. Like a fast breathe, or a warm breeze, or a lightning bolt; fleeting and wonderful and profound. but gone. In the blink of an eye. I wish i could retain all that information. 

Another thought. Why when you want something you never get it, but when you don't want something you do? Is it a predisposition of human nature to not get anything you want? Life isn't fair. Well, that is pretty accurate.

READ NINETEEN MINUTES, V.