Last night Michelle and I had the strangest conversation about love and the philosophy of love. We began by talking about Chris which turned into 'all people need love or not' argument which led to blind love and so forth. Best txt conversation I've had in forever!
Ukrainian school. Got hit in the face with a football... and it was boring.
Bonding even for theatre! That was fun. We played 10 fingers, psychiatrist and other fun games. Got cider.
Why does it seem life is all about love and music. I mean those are the things that really really matter... everything else kinda branches off. But you could contradict that. I have a theory that you can contradict anything and everything. It seems that way, doesn't it. Now every time I go to say something I have to think about it.
The color of the sky: It was pretty. A glowing marigold pumpkin orange surrounded by the most vibrant lilac purple. One could only describe it as a Renaissance piece of art set out to be wondered about at the Louvre. Yet still, only a few stop to actually marvel at it while the rest wander on looking at pornography of the twenty-first century.
"I think you honestly love him though..."
"I think I do."
What else matters? Nothing. Contradiction: a lot. So I decided that's what my black notebook journal shall be about.
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