Crooked smile.

It’s unfortunate. It’s permeating, and frail. Guess you are spun into your own momentum now. It’s not easy to breathe, there and here. I’m guessing. Paste on a smile, throw cause over your shoulder, unravel your day to day which I hope fills you the way it should. It should. It fills every minute of tangible reason, to peel back every fingerprint. I still feel the good and the bad, but I like to let the comfort that was there wash over. At least it’s a feeling, to feel something. When it’s cold out, maybe you will feel enough to fall.

 

always you.

somewhere, I guess ill always wonder.

Hang the DJ.

And find the way home.

Clair de Lune

I don’t even know what to put here anymore. I am detaching far from everything. I want to bury myself in the sky. I don’t want to crater during this season. It’s unfamiliar to just not feel. Then absolutely the next day be overwhelmed. You really weren’t ready for this, or really ready for anything. Cover yourself up, barricade yourself in. It honestly feels like a curtain call. The writings I’ve read over the last six weeks, it’s like nothing ever counted. It really was just words, and nothing else. Some people just don’t care, they really don’t. Like how do you even wake up and just be. I don’t understand. And mentally I just take myself somewhere else.

39 Days

Note 1398
Maybe when someone wakes up and really sees the value in what was there, it will matter.

Note 1399
Winter, it’s really all I can think about. And yet it petrifies me at the same time. A cardboard box of things that will dump all on the floor at once. My safest place is always there, in the times that made a difference. As you leave your comfort zone, you unravel everything – you walk under branches and over the leaves. And years later it unfolds and reads like a beaten book. I could tell stories all day about very short intimate events. I can go there in my head and smell the air, I can feel the cold in my lungs. I can remember a shirt on my fingertips. And these places just are more real to me nowadays. I’m tired. I’m quiet. And I don’t want to lose the very little I have left.

There is just not enough time, and I really should not be surprised anymore. Why would I think the next one should ever be different.

 

“Most people have a rope that ties them to someone, and that rope can be short or it can be long. You don’t know how long, though. It’s not your choice.” – Nick Hornby