written on a postcard that is the ether of my various paranoias
where there is hardly any space to write because there are so many:
my obsession with you has become too much for me.
why do you always convince me that there is something wrong?
where the stamp would go it says:
granada, spain
june 13-16 2006
there is nothing wrong with me, i have no illness.
i have no addiction.
i am simply too caught up in other people’s addictions and desires.
without you, i can be me. i can be happy and peaceful, kind and loving.
with you i lack compassion, i lack gentleness.
you have no power over me.
now i just have to believe it.
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