If EVER a being to get me, despite appearances.

..Nathan knows...I know...and that will be that...It's a matter of swans...and that bitterness among a general bitterness that I will have to embrace even if we are supposed to be so...fucking...happy...I sense no need to disconnect form a genuine sense of this existence...I have has storn sense of protection, that wouldn't make much sense if we were simply bodies in the mirror...physicalities of...it's not where one will understand my approach...but there is that need for me to be at the surface and of framed deficite always...what a surprise...I consider a recurring dream...it's snowing...it's central park....and blood starts to rain...droplets...somewhat small...in dynamic motion as they hit the snow...Bethesda...Castle Clinton...blood...morphing into a dynamic motion. It isn't the motion of anything I've ever witnessed before. Droplets. Almost a mist...encountering the snow...moving as if it never intended to move before. Telling a story that wasn't intended to ever have been told. This life.