Recently I read a book for English called A Streetcar Named Desire, which isn't important. What is important is that it ended with a self-interview by the author himself. Structured like any other interview and yet "Do you agree Mr Williams" "Yes I do agree, Mr Williams".
It was silly but the man was mad. Laura and I giggle about it for a little while. Laura who looks like a Hope and nothing like Laura. But I've never known why she looks like a Hope. I'm not sure I've ever known a hope and if I have I don't believe they looked anything the same. I don't know anyone like her. Perhaps she fills me with hope. She has very deep eyes.
Ramblings of a madman, it should have been called. But it wasn't, it was called something like "An interview of myself" or something. Perhaps that is what I will call this.
I said prior to this that I was lonely.
I was, deeply.
So deeply in fact that I ended up speaking constantly to Connor which put a strain on the relationship I claimed to live for.
Yet here I am, six or so weeks in, perhaps no longer lonely.
I don't feel lonely.
And yet, I keep reaching for the past.
I'm unhappy when I know that one person didn't tell mme about the art competition she won, when I realise I'll only see another when we bump into each other at sports events for she has no will to share her life with me.
So many I may never see again.
Why should it matter?
The new people in my life, I love them dearly but.. I still don't quite love them.. nearly?
Some I love. Truely love. Maybe deeper than I've ever loved anyone but then, shallower too. Loving for looks, loving for science, loving for study.
Not loving for love.
Loving for pleasure, personal gain. Loving for hedonism? They are my hedonism?
Loving for psychology and beauty and difference.
Or just loving for love?
I don't quite know how to classify my love for them.
I don't trust the others. Not really.
Even the one I thought I was most close to, I don't like to speak to her for fear she'll have a go at me.. and the other who I walk with tends not to speak to me, nor listen to me.
So I cling onto the past.
And so I cling to what I've lost.
And I rip myself apart.
And I realise I'm alone now in my old world.
And I take my mind back to mi gemela, Cake, Bee, Kitten.
But they left, long ago.
And I search for them all.
She claims to miss us but says nothing to us..
She doesn't search in our old world.
We have new worlds now but I still cling to the old and I will end up, inevitably, wasting away without them here.