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(12/17/2004; 01:31am) - Esteem

i used to sit up late nights and watch boys i was in love with sleep.
i used to gaze down at them,
at the room they lived in,
at the life we were creating together and i used to write.
language used to flow out of me in a stream of consciousness way that some how in it's blur captured exactly what i thought, what i felt, that conveyed my empathetic understanding of the world to another through limited language.
they got it.

but i haven't done that in a long time

i haven't written words
with flow
with a sense and a style and a confidence

maybe i'm just not the person i was
maybe that was the intent of all this?
maybe that's still broken
maybe it will/can get fixed,

maybe i just have to find a new art form.
and let go.