i used to think that i couldn't hate anybody, ever. these days i've come to believe that i've always felt the same things as anyone else and just refused to call it hatred. now i have to figure out what it would mean to start using the word 'hate' with a greater intent. i'd have the same anger and crap, but i'd convey it differently. it would probably make a significant surface change; i don't know about the rest.

(my tongue resists the idea of the word "but," like everything should always be connected with an "and" in its place)

and the thought of a time capsule seemed so much cooler when i was a kid, probably because my younger self was curious at the thought of being contained and saved [Do you want to save before you quit? Y/N] when the actual act of rediscovery (mind you) is a lot less exciting. maybe my desires will reverse again (like two reverse cards in a game of Uno), when my memory progresses from comfortable-faded to tattered-faded the same sad way all good pants do (do good pants go to heaven?). maybe in my old age i'll want something old like me and filled with context (like me?) to hold and stare at and touch.


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