it's a Friday again! i've been losing track of time cos my sleeping hours the last few days have been quite screwed up. been playing bridge with my block mates at night till weird hours in the am. like last night - we stayed up till 7am to play bridge then went down for breakfast before coming back up at 8am to sleep. i had a 2pm lect so that meant i could sleep in till quite late, at least. but still! if this goes on i'll become extremely nocturnal and my body clock will become completely screwed.

and you know what? i don't know what the hell i'm doing in business. no, really! i really wanna go to arts and i think i'll do a lot better there.. but it's so stupid don't you think? ohh i really shouldn't have just gone to business without thinking properly about everything.

beauty is really really extremely subjective. and though it's only skin deep, it's nonetheless still important, no matter how anyone can say that it's what's inside that really counts. when you meet a new group of people, you'll most likely want to talk to the more good-looking people first. then the more you talk to them, the more you realise that they're nice people. but it's the looks that draw first, isn't it?

aiyah whatever man. i'm quite tired of thinking of all this beauty business. some people may think you're hot but to some others, you're just average. someone else may think you're the ugliest creature on the planet but to someone else, you're the sweetest thing ever. you may think you look like crap, but in someone else's eyes, you're the prettiest. i don't know what's going on, but i feel myself slipping off the edge of the cliff and i don't know where i'm falling.


Dear Goat,

How does one fall in love? Do you trip? Do you stumble, lose your balance and drop to the sidewalk, graze your knee, graze your heart? Do you crash to the stony ground? Is there a precipice, from which you float, over the edge, forever?

I know I'm in love when I see you, I know when I long to see you. Not a muscle has moved. Leaves hang unruffled by any breeze. The air is still. I have fallen in love without even taking a step. When did this happen? I haven't even blinked.

I'm on fire. Is that too banal for you? It's not, you know. You'll see. It's what happens. It's what matters. I'm on fire.

I no longer eat, I forget to eat. Food looks silly to me, irrelevant. If I even notice it. But I notice nothing. My thoughts are full and raging, a house of brothers, related by blood, feuding blood feuds:

"I'm in love."
"Typically stupid choice."
"I am, though. I'm racked by love as if love were pain."
"Go ahead. Fuck up your life. It's all wrong and you know it. Wake up. Face it."
"There's only one face I see, it's all I see, awake or asleep."

I threw the book out of the window last night. I tried to forget. You are all wrong for me, I know it, but I no longer care for my thoughts unless they're thoughts of you. When I'm close to you, in your presence, I feel your hair brush my cheek when it does not. I look away from you, sometimes. Then I look back.

When I tie my shoes, when I peel an orange, when I drive my car, when I lie down each night without you, I remain,

As ever,
Ram


The Love Letter, Cathleen Schine.

6:58 PM;