baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Custom-Made-Cloud I do wrong, I suspect, when I pour my heart into what I write. And so I retreat--squint the eyes and slump the shoulders--and fade into the wallpaper as I gather again the dust of the walls that have fallen around me. It's a recurring pattern-this advance and retreat. I'm torn between opening up and closing down; balancing back and forth between the two sides and wondering who will be around to catch me if I happen to slip. Who indeed. It's more confusion than melancholy-this ache of mine. Everything else is in balance. And even my lone Sunday walks amongst the yellow leaves and camelias of my backstreets fullfill their significance in the best of ways. I'm getting good at being alone. And it scares me so. 10:07 p.m. - 2002-11-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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