i am using special fish to publish my writings, stories, poetry, spoken word, any type of text i am too fearful to publish further than my closest friends though it is the medium i love so dear, and i believe i am not too bad at - sometimes. special fish is like a diary for this type of work i do. it does not seem published, out there, in the open, but it is. it a step forward for myself in gaining confidence. nobody can see this, or they can, and, i don't know about it - or you do, because you want to be my friend (would be cute hihi). but in general, the work is out there, published, in this big realm of online space, but still, it feels safe, private. a secluded space. oh the irony! the paradox: the work exists out in the open, for everyone to see, no borders to this page; open for all, but still, who is really out there, then? i dont think anyone will ever read. i love that about this big digital realm i keep on typing in. i wonder if i ever gain a connection from this page. if you find yourself here, and you have read on, or you haven't, let me know, send me a friend request (you can delete it after). i wonder how many people come to visit, when i am, or not, here myself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ it is strange how love starts in the stomach and it ends there too throughout this love you loved to feed this love cooking as love language but now now thats its done i feel it in my stomach a huge ball of dough pain i am sick to my stomach i need to lay down becoming becoming a being, becoming a body, a body of water being water and then talking with them too the body and love, and oh, darling, they interact -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i know it has to end i really know my friends keep telling me too and i know i know this is bad for me i notice it myself i feel an anger where before there was a butterfly fluttering now, i just feel a pit an empty stomach like a cave the disrespect like ancient wall paintings her hands all over it i feel it as anger a fire burning in the dark cave i know it needs to end i too, seek a way out of the grotto a light at the end the outside and i know it will be sunrise soon and that when then before the day is done and the sun will set again i need to have walked out of the cave and leave the logs that the fire consumed behind i need to be the one that walks away but still i keep on looking at the wall paintings begging her to talk to me saying i love her work hoping to bring a butterfly in with the warmth the fire radiates (and sometimes they do, but they just leave quickly) because at least now, there is a fire burning and i am fearful that if i walk out too soon it will still be dark out and there wont be fire burning inside me anymore it will be cold and turn icy and that fire that devoured the butterfly will devour me through the lack of its being no new butterflies to return -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i had lost touch with myself now also with the world doing everything on automatic stopped being aware, ,conscious stopped seeing images beauty everywhere i went now i just find myself places i have stopped noticing my surroundings, my interests, the mundane and with that, i have lost myself yet now i notice for the first time in however long my lack of noticing and how that means i have not noticed _myself slipping away