I saw Teresa Mascia in a dream. She was wearing a dusty rose skirt. She beamed and waved as she walked by. It was nice to see her.

Never know anyone, or yourself… because you can’t. Because there isn’t. That’s how it just now felt, more or less, and earlier today too.

Like at the Imago Mundi meeting, agreeing on a concept. I disassociated for a moment and we were just containers for nervous systems with all words meaningless. In us and through us: blank space.

And just now, thinking about “cute” and remembering Jess use the word the last time we saw each other, and thinking the way they said it was it. (Cute). And I never knew Jess and never will know anyone.

The memory of having that crush and then being rejected is on a feeling-loop whenever I think about it. And now I’m trying to avoid giving those feelings to someone else again. By lying. But not really, just halfway. By not being fully honest because mightn’t full honesty result in emotional catastrophe? I don’t have the time.

How did I dig this hole and am I building a house in it? Wasn’t it all sealed in that first 10 minutes of looking in Kamille’s eyes?

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