I got Emmas (seaspawns) zine today, "The Du(t)chess of Cologne, #1 curiouser and curiouser".

This morning I felt like shit. The night was full of screaming nightmares, pain and a loving but mightily annoying boycat. So I didn't go to university. Yesterday I didn't write one word I didn't erase instantly. This morning I staid in bed for hours, and when the idea of how to proceed came, I put on socks, a scarf and hand knitten fingerless gloves and resumed typing.
Then the friendsfamily came home and we ate together. Harmony. Elia gave me my mail for today which was Emmas zine. I read half of it, and now I hurt.

I don't think she really knows how unbelievably lucky she is. She SEEs and has the ability to tell about it. She can weave words into tales from a fairy bluegreen city, which is right out there in front of my window. But I am just now reaching it. The city. The bluegreen shadows and the bright lights between the ugly buildings. Just this summer I started searching for the High. The Flow. For the life I always wanted.
Oh yes, the years I've lived more than her give me a certain kind of experience. Every year I get older my fear of getting older grows thinner. I know a lot about love and death, about loss and gain, victory and defeat. But all this cloggs my mind. The more you cannot defeat youself, the more you lose your confidence that one day you will.
I lost so much of myself on my long way to this place in space and time. I lost my love for books, any books, really. I lost my love for exercise and I nearly lost my ability to be bored and stay bored until I do something with it.
I just now regain all that. But I'll have to work a lot harder to become a regular A-student again, to not be intimitated by literature and excersice. To start loving again.
To ride the Flow and not just for a few days before I jump off again, scared shitless. To ride it forever. Like Emma does.