leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary

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growing vines

I often watch my body when I am performing a task (drying myself from the shower, brushing my dark hair, running my hands over something.)

Not look at; watch. (There's a difference.)

Watch and wonder at what it'll do next. A forever feeling that I'm pulled by little strings; not always the one in control of it's actions.

I study the scars on my wrists and sometimes believe that they have grown their like vines, without my participation or consent.

I wonder sometimes if the lush ivy crawling up a red brick wall hurts the house. I wonder if instead, like my scars, the ivy is soothing. A comfort. Proof the house still stands.

Because surely something as alive as these crisscrosses would not belong on something already condemned. They are instead evidence that we (that I) survive.

10:09 a.m. - May 23, 2003

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