tracey writes on the beauty of google. suddenly i feel closer to her.
did you ever run that marathon?
did you ever write that novel?
to google i turn, usually disappointed. unless i searched for myself: you can imagine how validated i felt when a professor told me he searched for “monica shaw austin” and i was at the top of the list.
validated? maybe.
but i get this strange feeling when, at the end of the day i find, no one’s written me an e-mail, and no one’s read my blog. i start to question my existence. it’s supposed to be ironic, but
it burns
doesn’t it?
existence. am i religious? i wonder if we are all connected in some way or another — like the force, sans ewoks. thinking about this i have to laugh. because i used to get involved with people, and i could see that “look” in their eyes, and all i could wonder was “what do they see that i don’t”? i started to believe that everyone was put on this earth for a reason, except me. somehow my conception was an accident, and i wasn’t supposed to be here.
if i had only realized that this spiritual b.s. was an excuse for poor timing, i would have had a much easier time dealing with life.
sometimes i wonder if the timing had been better, would austin have worked out for me? would i have had my heart in it?
it’s one of those nights.
but like little tejas said: “try not to think about what might have been, cuz that was then, and we have taken different roads.”
as much as i can’t wait to leave this place, i miss Austin already. but doubt it misses me.
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