nicole latchana

Sorry if it does not make sense…


Dear Person,

The successful effort it takes to exhume a sentence from my mind is indefinitely a wonder that only another person with this level of introversion can understand, which, taking in all the awareness that yes, this is an extremely self-indulgent and inadvertedly ferocious assumption, no one can seem, as I rival through all my half baked acquaintances and subjects, although I say subjects I can say that I’ve had no interest in any of them and seen them rather as a new born mosquito sussing out who is the sweetest of the bunch, and not yet seeing me as a last resort, and wasting 0.4244% (rounded to the 4th decimal) of thier lives in 9.25 minutes that they hover whimsically around this hospital waiting room dipping in and our of my tasteless mozzie milk, that no one can seem to to relate to my level of complete, utter, distain for these walking hollow masses of matter, there fore I am thee, most introverted of all…

If anything it would be better to be lobotomized, and to become a slave to the desperation of hunger, extreme scalding heat, protrusive sexual neglecting, because that would allow me to see that these “gregarious” interactions with people are superficial, a little like the feeling of looking up into the night sky and realising that there are 300 billion stars in the galaxy, at least 100 million galaxies, and how the part we can see has a radius of 47 billion light years, (incase you forgot, Light Year: a unit of astronomical distance equivalent to the distance that light travels in one year, which is 9.4607 × 1012 km (nearly 6 million million miles)) and then you get this feeling that nothing you’re standing on is solid, and then your legs turn like jelly like that time you stood on top of that building when you were 14 years old and wanted to hug those tiny cars at the bottom especially the one that’s the same aubergine shade as that bear your Aunty threw away when you moved house, these bear-cars, who look like they are moving so slowly, like when you are in a aeroplane and the boats dont look like they are moving at all like when you used to play with little toy towns, and they you realise it doesn’t really matter if you start falling because you are just another thing made up of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus, sodium, potassium, sulfur, silicon, chlorine, magnesium, iron, iodine, and fluorine and you don’t really matter that much, because you’re just dispersed. In a banana, the stuff you douse your chips with, the stuff you swallow when your earning you 5meters, the stuff you inhale, the cow you eat,

This is why it is best for you to look like this, and use these stitched on strawberry laces as reminders of the liberation once you have absolved yourself to the disengagement from this pointless human existence.

Love always,

Dee Dee

Dear D, my love,

“I’ve been so unhappy being unhappy with you” Joseph Arthur.
I feel like this song is really like our relationship, and the undying, love I have for you, because you are, as always, my Favourite Girl. But I am having trouble with this, I really am, I know it makes you jealous but right now i’ve been feeling a lot better, please I will never stop kissing you like a machine gun and hugging you till you bruise and loving you till you privates are sore, and staying up and watching the sunset and rise and set and rise and set and rise until we are finally able to fall asleep, however brief, it is total nirvana, or as the Japanese call it, Satori, but, and I know you hate this work when it is used in context of us, I can’t quite say this in any other way to make it hurt less, I think I need some space, to figure out if I can love more than one person. I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry. Please don’t ask for details, I am sorry.

Love from,

Person xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ps. I can be like a sniper, I promise, I will make every fucking shot, fucking matter.