Everything but happiness is neurosis

I feel a fatigue of the tongue seeking to utter impossible things until it twists itself into a knot and chokes me. I feel a fatigue at this mass of nerves seeking to uphold a world that is falling apart. I feel a fatigue at feeling, at the fervor of my dreams, the fever of my thought, the intensity of my hallucinations. A fatigue at the sufferings of others and my own. I feel my own blood thundering inside of me, I feel the horror of falling into abysms. But you and I would always fall together and I would not be afraid. I was always exhausted by my dreams, not because of the dreams, but because of the fear of not being able to return. I do not need to return. I will find you everywhere. You alone can go wherever I go, into the same mysterious regions. You too know the language of the nerves. You will always know what I am saying even if I do not.

Anxiety is love’s greatest killer. It makes one feel as you might when a drowning man holds unto you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.

După fiecare carte mă întorc la Anais Nin. După o trilogie SF care, paradoxal, mă ține cu picioarele pe ‘pământ’ mă arunc repede într-o stare Nin în care să mă regăsesc și în care să plutesc.

Am ignorat toate lepșele din acest weekend, una îmi zicea să votez, una să răspund, una să scriu, una să iau atitudine, una să fac revoluție. Toată lumea joacă atinselea pe scopuri supreme.

Și eu joc propria mea leapșă. Atinselea cu pielea ta.  Indiferentă față de grijile tuturor, iubesc. 

 ‘Acum, săruta-mă, girlfriend!  Sau o mușc iar de umărul gol…!’

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