i am sorry this is all i can afford you … this cheap excuse for an entry before i go to bed … working the grave shift is draining me so much more than art school and i stare helplessly at these hands sinking in on themselves as the months go by and i’ve lost so much flesh and weight it seems … i have been wondering if my self-induced isolation with people is as much their fault as it is my own intensity and empathy … i am wondering if i do need what i despise, the human comfort i’ve tried so hard to shake myself of … i am wondering if i should not let the city suck me in and spit me out because i have nothing better to do really and it appears all worth while as most say, but as you know no one really knows or listens half past self-interest … what am i to you? more than who are you and what is this strange possiblity of human development more than anxious preoccupation and something to pass the hours … i want you to know i could see you in your words, you on a stage nervous at first but evermore feeling the breach and letting it pour out like the sun and the stars and the moon and the tides you always tell me of and i think i appreciate it more because of this … i want to tell you more and listen to you more, but i am afraid these desires are so beyond my grasp as i try to find how to live in a life and a society i must constantly remold for to be able to live in, to retain this exterior from caving in on itself, i am so different from it and i can no longer fake it anymore … i know of ghosts and this “haunt” more than i am willing to admit … i have them, i see them everyday … memories like so many forgotten and abused postitutes … you remember wesley? no one knows if he’s alive or dead right now because of his disappearance and heavy involvement in nasty drugs and habits … i don’t know why that bothers me so much, i sometimes think: is this a part of me, his path, didn’t i flirt with self-destruction like he but chose to run away instead? i don’t know … many things baffle me these days but I wanted you to know that in this sea of so many distractions and layers, I remember you and your words remind me not so much of hope but at least of why I am still doing this and why you still remain raw and honest to me, a friend and a muse that crosses more distances than those I see everyday …