Notebook 060

i know i get confused between best friend and partner. you know that person that's supposed to be all these connations in movies and literature. i hate similies that mean an intersecting opposite i.e. bread and butter because for me, it's totally not that. It's more amalgamated. intertwined. indistinguishably separate. i think i'd like to say it's like a leaf; you pick it up, and it's one. there's just no denying it. but how it runs off two sides, mirroring but having their separate veins and tracks, it seems like two parts, but essentially and denotingly, it's one. split up, it'd just be half a leaf. sometimes there can be holes in one side though where one side hasn't been so strong or faltered. burnt out. eaten by bugs. the other side still lives because it's hanging on to the outlines of these missing parts making them not be totally missing by providing the chalk outline and pointing out that yeah, there is something actually missing there. it's not not there, it's gone. there's a difference. but it survives, and then at autumn it essentially dies. drops off the tree still holding onto the spaces it needs to be a whole. rots with the space until it becomes nothing and the space, becomes not a space anymore because it's not missing, it's just not there.

i want that.

the beauty of having a part taken away and not being there, but it is because you need it to be for you to be.
moonlight sonata was playing whilst i was typing that big monologue. i really enjoyed that moment even though it had a stark aftertaste.