i live by the harbor. fresh air to me is the scent of the sea and all of the things that happen to be inside of it. it has been like that for as long as I can remember, actually. the air feels solid and alive almost. i can smell the rotting meat and the stale pieces of scrap that float in the foam. i feel as though the very thought of what could be in the ocean would keep me away from this place, or perhabs just the scent of it all would, but i don't know. something about it keeps me rooted in place. whether it be some subconcious influence based on my life experiences or not i am unsure. i tend to think about that a lot. are the actions i am taking place in at this moment simply based on occurences that i can't even remember? had i moved here because of some accident that happened as a child? had the house i live in now looked so attractive to me on that day that i signed those papers been put into action beyond my own will?
maybe, yes. that must be it.
how could it not be? any normal person wouldn't dare to live somewhere so foul, so vulgar, and so dreadfully smelly. that is just something i will never be able to convince myself to get over, i suppose. should it be something to get over in the first place? does it truly matter? thinking about all of the factors that can make an area an area unnatractive puts the reason i chose this place into perspective. there could be crime in the area. there could be infestations, hauntings, natural disasters, and so much more. i think i should give up on finding a reason for staying here. it makes sense. there is nothing to worry about. i would never do something so blindly. of course i wouldn't.
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no, it doesn't make sense. of course i would do something so blindly, wouldn't i? that's the way i've lived so far. i've lived blindly. i've lived without a path, i think.
maybe, yes. that must be it.
it could all make sense to me now. the way i've lived my life up until this point, reckless. i've been reckless and without thought and now was when i had paid for it. i had moved into a house that is not a home, of course i had. that is what makes sense to me at this very moment. i can feel the pieces connecting together. i can remember it as clear as day. a reckless lifestyle led by...
no, wait
i can't keep waiting. it has been too long since i've been outside. i need some fresh air. or something. is the air fresh? did i ever think that rancid air outside was fresh air? had i said it was fresh air to me? had i said this is all i remember? i can't remember beyond me. there's something in the air, or the water. something. had i forgotten something? had i forgotten why i was thinking this? i'm writing it down. it's a project of mine.
maybe, yes. that must be it.
i'm writing this all down as a project of mine. a way to pass the time. i can't remember how long i have been inside this house. i covered up the windows some time ago, i believe. yes, i did. i covered up the windows. i need some fresh air. fresh air to me is the scent of the sea and all the things that happen to be inside of it. yes. i will return shortly.
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there isn't anything outisde