"we accept the love we think we deserve." - stephen chbosky (the perks of being a wallflower).

i left this book out on the coffee table for weeks before brian finally borrowed it. he left me a note and said he'd taken it to italy with him. i hope when he reads it, it speaks to him.

today i had a very unsettling experience.
a homeless came out of nowhere and smelled my hair.
it was like one moment i was walking and he was walking in the opposite direction, and the next, there was a memory of him smelling my hair and he had already passed me by. I was about two strides away before I really comprehended what'd happened. I turned around, and he was walking away, cackling to himself about it. I just stood there and couldn't comprehend what happened. On one hand, what the fuck was that?

On the other hand, I discovered something curious. I go so deep into my head so quickly when I'm vigilant or scared that I lose the present and all I experience is the memory of something, like I'm watching a delayed film strip of what happened but it's not something I've ever consciously experienced. I can hop so far out of a moment when I'm scared, that I can only remember it when it's over. I know what this means. But I can't see what it actually looks like. What the fuck was I so traumatized by that my perception of reality and memory's so fucked up? What happened to me? How is it possible that someone can't remember large portions of her life?

Trauma seeks trauma and someone was kind enough to give me a spiritual mirror for a bit. I know so many people say walk away, it's a dark tunnel, but there are those of us who are looking for redemption. We have to find the answer to the questions about our history because by knowing it will set you free. Right? Or is all this spiritual stuff just complete bullshit? What's at the bottom of this tunnel, at the end of this journey? Man, weird shit has been happening in my life. And I'm sober and conscious most of the time but people just come out of the woodwork lately. And sometimes they scare me. Why?

The closer you get, the more people want a piece of you. Who do you trust?