out of here, out of here, the words i sang at the end when strumming to my own feelings, but never gave much weight to.

cat power finds me again, later in the season than before, and eight years later, and sings about how there's always something better, because you know there always is, and she's right, but i'm not sad for once, and maybe not sad not for the first time, but in some way that hits but not heavy.

i can tell.

the boys i would've given anything to be loved by are still around, older, but i wouldn't give anything to be loved anymore. i wouldn't've given anything for a while now. not that love's not worth it, but i don't feel like i have to give anything for something that is free when it's free.
sometimes i find that i have love to give, and it surprises me, but sometimes i think it's just the particular day when i've made peace with things.

i test my stories and questions and see what sticks. sometimes i find fish, and sometimes i find something that makes me feel something.

it's almost my birthday. i want to tell future selves, that things will be okay, that all things will be ok, and that nothing is as serious or dire or as singular and as only as you feel it is. feelings are such liars and so fickle, but yeah, when that wave of good feeling hits, yeah, it's a feeling, and you are riding on it like i am. happiness happens in strange moments, but sometimes you can see it happening, and you just edge it on.

not all days will be clear like this, but that is ok. you get through everything even if you don't believe you will. you were never a believer anyway, so belief's got nothing to do with what happens.