There is a manner in which certain things ask to be written, not so that they may be found, but because to exist in silence, for too long, eventually becomes insufficient. It is not urgency. It is something closer to a necessity that makes no noise, waiting patiently until it discovers the proper form. This archive was born in such a way.
Not as a diary. Not as a blog. Not as something that is updated merely for the sake of appearing alive. It is a place where certain thoughts come to rest, those which do not dissolve, those which return, those which insist with the silent obstinacy of things that truly belong to you...
Tuesday. Packing for Genova. Clothes: too many. Music: obviously necessary. Notebook: necessary. Things Mom says I won’t use: probably necessary. Things I will actually forget: currently unknown. I am looking...
Saturday. Organising who is going, when we’re leaving, where everybody meets and how everybody gets home remains approximately seventeen times more difficult than the actual night. Remember me, Eclipse.
Wednesday. We have successfully invented multiple ways for the same people to interrupt me on the same computer. Technology. Remember me, Eclipse.
Sunday. Mom asked whether I really wanted hot tea when it is this warm. Yes. Four biscuits too. Principles are meaningless if they disappear in July. Remember me, Eclipse.
Thursday. Too hot for HTML. Changed the layout anyway. Remember me, Eclipse.
Monday. No new powers. No increased wisdom. Skin still behaves independently of my wishes. Sixteen currently overrated. Remember me, Eclipse.
Saturday. Sixteen. I checked and I am exactly the same person as yesterday, which feels like poor value considering how significant sixteen is supposed to sound. The day was good....
Wednesday. Three days. Shut up. Remember me, Eclipse.
Sunday. Birthday soon. I am not counting. Hikari says I am counting. Remember me, Eclipse.
Friday. Half of 2000 is gone. January feels both yesterday and approximately seven years ago. Time is badly designed. Remember me, Eclipse.
Tuesday. Hikari, Erick and I took four photo booth pictures. One is good. One is survivable. Two must never enter the historical record. Erick wants copies. No. Remember me, Eclipse.
There is a moment in a crowd when a track changes and everybody reacts before you’ve consciously identified why. Half a second, maybe less. That’s the part people who call...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.