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Monday, June 06, 2011

I was thinking about contradictions while keying in my password, and typed in 'contradiction' instead.

Recent conversations with my younger sister were meaningful and thought-provoking, they take place in the wee hours of the night when my mind is quiet and churning. Usually the thoughts have already been turned over in my head multiple times but talking about them aloud probes me to think them over more, the need to express them in lucid sentences/phrases forces me to be clear about them rather than have broad unsorted ideas. Feels comfortable, folding [these thoughts] into neat squares and stacking them into shelves in my head.

'Alone time' is contradicting, because while I yell about not having enough of it, I feel anxious whenever i do. The imperative to face myself, reluctant, because this business of talking to myself like a mad hatter is fearful, nauseating, and no good can come from it.

she's not here @

7:56 PM