intuitive writing: dec. 22 / 2023

I do not like the way they look at me. It's always the looks: before and after dressing up, looks you receive on the bus, the way you look at anything your eyes meet. I do not crave to be undressed through the gaze. Every whisper reaches me as an unwanted touch. When I turn my ear; they disappear.

The wind whistles the way one does before an untimely event. Now comes the car that moves too quickly. Your life is in danger. But was there any danger if it'd been arranged by fate? Your final destination was engineered. You were meant to meet this vehicle. This was no accident. This is not dangerous. This is simply your reality.

I'd like you to embrace it.