A Live Journal Post from ’06

Bruck wall and hand illustration. 
Oct. 2nd, 2006 at 11:11 PM

I wish that my life could be fiction.

I wish that all of it was made up because this reality is hard.

This reality is wonderful and I embrace it.

But it’s so difficult and so absurd.

All meaningful things are actually meaningless

and all that is nothing

is everything.

I pressed my hand against a brick wall today to test its solidity.

I was hoping to push right through but I couldn’t prove it wasn’t there.

I saw structures made of steel and glass and brick reaching toward a blue sky.

It all seemed real.

If it is.

Then, why?


Categories: Poetry, re-post

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