I want to live alone with myself, without company,
finding company too difficult to breathe among,
but I find I need someone else to tell me my opinions,
to explain to me the outlines of myself.
I don't know bad, good. Not without you, or someone like you.
I need a reference point to find myself.
Alone, I explore deeply within, conclude what is wrong with me, autopsychoanalyze,
as I am doing now, alone in an electrically lit room with the window open but screens on the window,
keeping the night outside, alone at
"too early, too late"
a place I've been before,
I know I'll be again.
I have made my conclusions, I have outlined the problem, calculated the misconception.
I can find no solution.
I cannot get the equation to work out to an answer which helps anything at all to change.
I am alone, and staying alone,
and the numbers tell me I am going nowhere at a speed approaching light,
but I am never reaching, because I cannot reach anything,
I am riding a curve into infinity, continuously halving distances, never to arrive at a destination.
Only visions of not-alone make truly-alone.
The moment of understanding the possibility of better-than-where-you-are is the moment of the craving of that better,
is the moment of unhappiness with the present situation.
Without love, everyone would be happy.
And so I sit here in electric alone holding out wild night wondering about other,
pining alone, liking alone,
but fearing its sad almost-clutches greying me out, holding me fast, not going anywhere,
fearing that there can never be more than one screen or another staring back at me, only reflecting
my self, my words, my fantasies, my dreams,
never, never reality.
8/19/97, 8/22/97, 9/30/97