Montauk

Its the middle of the night. I have no pen, no computer. Only my phone that's dying and a mind racing.

Lately I've wanted so badly to write a million things but havn't had the chance. Perhaps because I've been going crazy.

We had a sweet day. It felt anticlimatic. Its dark and he's sick again. I'm helpless. We watched eternal sunshine. I forgot its significance.

Until I heard the work "Montauk." I learned its context tonight. I rememeber that you said it to me. "Meet me in montauk."

It could have meant that you loved me. It could have meant you thought I was THE one.

It could have meant you were sick of me. That you wanted to forget me more than you cared for me.

Fantasies and memories. Dust and smoke. The feelings aren't inside me anymore. But a cloying sense of some unidentifiable wistfulness.

I'm confused about the difference between the truth and what I want to be the truth. I don't know what I'm clinging to and what's clinging to me. Lately my life has been repeated insanities. I have confused reality with my own anxiety. I feel so desperately far from anything concrete.

Am I floundering?

His body is curled into mine with our learned and sincere intimacy. My life is distant from my inner life. I have splut personalities. I am not sure which is authentic.

I have a word stuck in my head like a song. Manichean.

I've been thinking a lot recently about education and enlightenment and life. I have nothing sorted out.

I know this manichean structure:
Binaries:
You/him
Dream/reality
Instability/stability
Passion/reason
Longing/satisfaction
Rejection/acceptance
Unhappiness/happiness.

"Everything is connected downwards. And diagonally.

I'll never get there. I'll never get to montauk.