|Monday, September 3rd, 2001|
last night was surreal . . .
First off, Chris opened up a conversation . . . for those who don't know Chris, he was my now-ex's first boyfriend, and was a very un-nice guy. Pretty much your stereotypical asshole. Well . . . apparently he's trying to change. And he seems sincere about it . . . *sigh* he's one of the four people in the world I actively dislike, and three of those were involved with my ex breaking up with me in one way or another. (Involved in me losing my so far best chance at happiness . . .) but . . . if he's really trying to change . . .
This sort of thing is incredibly cliche, of course - someone claiming they're trying to change with no intention - but, he seems serious. I don't know :/
I ended up wandering around in East for a while. There's this inexplicable room in East - it's an abandoned triple, I think. Nobody's living there, just a trio of beds, and the door always propped open . . . there are jokes about it being a public sex room. Well, I happened to look inside, and there was a girl sleeping on one of the beds . . . it was late and I was tired, and I ended up going downstairs, writing a poem, and leaving it up there, taped to the door. I think she might have woken up, but . . . there's no way she could have seen me well enough to recognize me. I wouldn't recognize *her*, and I was awake :P The poem was gone today, so . . . someone got it, at least.
patterns of light and dark
darkened room, lightened bed
a girl where nobody should be
curled up against the outer world
(against cold? against others?
against public eyes like mine?)
no reason for it, and yet . . .
an unknown person, a wandering traveller
a silhouette of plaid against light diamonds
a form on a bed
no inner meaning
no deep philosophy
just sleep and rest
I wonder if you'll see this when you wake up and leave.
current mood: lonely
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