# 50 || fille o/u femme

For as long as I can remember, I have had a curiosity with human actions and subsequent re-actions. Perhaps this curiosity stems from a delicate incapacity to interpret and anticipate the feelings and fancies of those around me. The only golden rule I’ve ever known seems to be failing me now, when others don’t seem to respond to my reciprocity and I don’t even know what to do anymore. And so stems a whole new class of uncertainty that has never felt as intense as it does now. Suddenly what was once-upon-a-time a charming peculiarity has now become a social shortcoming and I feel the space between myself and those I love swell at an alarming speed. It would make sense to self-seclude but that isn’t even an option because I adore being a part of this world so very much. Thinking and feeling seem to be safe so far, but saying and doing is an entirely different chronicle. My clumsy communication is, for the most part, complete and utter naivety which is why I will negate you if you commend my illusive maturity. I don’t know anything about anybody or anywhere anymore.

Now everything Fitzgerald ever said all makes sense :: half in love but not actually in love, any real emotions suddenly trumped by an inquisitiveness towards the unknown. Social science experiments seem to be messy ventures, for I have learned there is no constant but consistent rules. I’ve yet to understand whether these rules are norms, clichés or mutual agreements // tell me, how do you really feel?  

I thought life was supposed to start all over again when it got crisp in the fall. Now, rather, it feels like my life is fall-ing apart. I thought sincerity was supposed to spellbind the souls of those around you but instead my inability to stray too far from who I truly am, seems to have left me with a strangely satisfying sort of melancholia. 

 “I was within and without. Simultaneously 

enchanted 

and 

repelled 

by the inexhaustible variety of life.” 

( I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. )

- A x

( images captured par mon étoile, emma matsuda )

# 49 || “… And what is the difference between obsession and desire?”

Sometimes I feel like an alien for my lack of ambition in this merciless millennium where it feels like everyone else is seeking something that I can’t even comprehend. Maybe I understood it once upon a time, when I thought I too would one day set the world on fire and those fiery flames would be all that mattered. Now I don’t really know what matters and what doesn’t in the slightest. The limits of human intention and control is immense, if you can believe it. Needs and Wants become insignificant when you gain enough perspective to place the preferences of others in front of your own desires. 

I guess it’s true that you could have been grateful for something all along, but that doesn’t matter that when it disappears, that it was to spite you. Sometimes everything is so wonderful it seems infinite, you don’t know how something so pure couldn’t possibly not last forever ( double negative ???! ). Does that even make sense? Thinking about how fragile a feeling is, it frightens me. I’ve always been so wholly ingrained in all of my feelings, believing they could eclipse everything. That somehow my feelings know more than I do. That they’re a million times more intuitive than I could ever be. Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong. I think I need to stop believing that what I live for is also worth dying for.

 Push me outside of my comfort zone and pin my body against the perimeter of what I know and what I don’t.  Sometimes I cry because it doesn’t make sense, because I know where you’re coming from but I don’t know why you want to stay where you are and go where you’re headed. You know, when where you came from is where you’re going - around and around in circles. But when I’m truly bewildered, when what you’re saying is something so new and astonishing to my deferential imagination, that’s when I fall in love with you.  Validation of an already recognised idea is a little egocentric, sometimes, but any kind of lesson is invaluable. And bewitching. Tell me a brand new notion and I’m a little smitten kitten … I just want to know everything, you know?   

Everything’s fine, but sometimes it’s so fine that it’s not fine because you can’t pinpoint what’s making you cry. I guess I shouldn’t forget that silver sparkles too, and second best might as well be first place because you learn so much more along the way. J’ai peur, un peu, I don’t know why.   

x, A