91. he who loves japanese breakfast
i feel you. feel for you. feel with you. feel.
i've been in your shoes. hearing you, watching you, it's a little painful. like a nail poking into my wrists.
you see, i now write a letter for you, for all my friends and foes, frenemies and flowers who are also young and alone and awaiting. let me begin by reminding you: i never felt like i fit in anywhere. there's two conversations happening at once, maybe more, that feel like little tubes to enter on a high speed subway somewhere. it's all happening so fast. i'm close to both.
i want to accomplish something great with myself. each day, i want to know i am taking steps to get there.
i want to be good. do good.
i want to be special. don't we all? well, i want to be extra special.
it's easy for me to tell when someone feels these things too. so easy. i can hear it in their voice. the sound goes up, and it goes down. turns sideways, and the space in the octave is a pillow of clouds. the view is stunning in emeryville, where all is never never lost. these are beautiful feelings. beautiful pictures.