not that i claim to be

synaesthetic to any real degree, but sometimes certain feelings have scents and colours.

like passive-agressive, which looks something like dull rust, and smells like a cloying potpourri. potpourri that you burn to cover up stale tobacco smoke. yup.

reference of the day

which pretty much no one reading this is likely to get:

i feel like i'm walking through the dreams of the city, chasing shimmery people in shadowed buildings, and nothing i do seems quite right.

i wish i could flip a switch in my head and just. go. to. sleep.

when i look at my face in the mirror sometimes,

i don't see my face. i see scattered elements of my mother's face from years back, superimposed. and my mind fills in the blanks like some fucked-up connect-the-dots image, and then all i can see is her. i get trapped in her face.

i know i'm under there, somewhere. i squint, i unfocus, like people do when they look at a 3d picture. but try as i might, i just can't... see... me.

sometimes this happens for a week straight and i actually forget what i look like. then i catch a glimpse of myself one day, walking by a mirror or a window. usually by accident. and suddenly, there i am... me. really, really me! this whole separate, fresh new person.

it's a terrifying experience each time. what if i disappear and never come back? seriously. how is it possible to know who you are, if you're not what you see? when it first happened years ago, it gave me a full-blown panic attack. or maybe the panic attack is why it happened in the first place. who knows? everything reflects itself endlessly.

be okay with that, be okay with that, be okay with that. okay?