hey, beauty. I told myself I wouldn't make this entry until I was ready-- but the schedule is tight, we will make our meek adjustments.

first of all-- thirst to travel. I'm parched. it's not that there is lovelier or better than here, it's only that there, only place and history exist, you do not exist. you have no language, name, or context. in my history class today, the professor showed slides of an old Roman road striping a valley in Turkey, and my eyes went wet. when are we going to go?

second of all-- I've made a mistake. I'm not sure what it is or when I made it; but a woman told me a story for hours on Monday night-- a story of high adventure, romance, heartbreak, daring escapes-- and it existed for its own sake, just for the telling of it, and I realized that those stories have become so foreign to me. when did that happen?

didn't I used to write stories all the time in my mind for no reason? the railroad stretching out forever, the broken window? wasn't everything secret and wild when I was younger? didn't I weigh in my palm three red glass beads and believe in glamoury?

yes, I did. I did, and I still practice my pietas, I believe in trolls under bridges, forest gods, holy stones. So it's not so much that I no longer believe in the fantastical as that I have no time or room for the fantastical in my day-to-day life; it's that I have become that destestable thing, a grown-up.

and that's the reason for all this depression and paralysis, I think. how am I supposed to keep my spirits up amid all these muted colors?

so I've diagnosed the missing piece, finally. My life has become a careful execution of strategic inertia, and everything in it exists within a system of rules, of pre-determined causes and effects. and. it sucks. I still don't actually know how to fix the problem, though. I'm confused but I'm not sad. the world will swell up around me. the dry earth will crack and deep dark wild will spill out.

~ alestar