2001-11-07 5:51 p.m.
department of the interior

"Love should be easy. We just make it hard with all the expectations we place on it."

I keep thinking about this quote, and I think about S. Is this love? Is it fair game to love because it simply feels right, to stop with the thoughts of games and lies and second-guessing...and to just love?

My entire life, my thoughts have moved in fast-forward, blazing by, often too fast to get down on paper, even if I wanted to. Half the time, typing (even at my current 91 words per minute, at last clocking) isn't fast enough to get them down.

I'm sitting here on earth, hands on the black armchair in our womb room, the deep red living room of my house (D. and an old roomie chose it), and I keep feeling my passions, my love, my life wanting to burst out of my chest, a fresh new body of energy that wants to spread its wings and sing, a deep, rich note of purity and joy.

whenever anyone asks me why I feel so deeply, throw myself into a project or a film or a piece of music so fully...it's because I can't do otherwise. That's not who I am.

I feel myself on the edge of something greater, with S., and the old processes push me to make excuses to hold off, to reconsider, to test and test again whether what I feel is real.

But my heart? It knows already.

Why did this take so long?