to know the things i feel and make sure the people who are really, legitimately important know them.
but i’ve been unsuccessful, in both regards.
and so i apologize.
if things bore you,
find new things that entertain.
don’t worry about loss,
and accept that things don’t last forever.
nonchalantly move on.
if this wasn’t who i was, would i be happier doing something else? doing anything else? i’m just so pissed off and vulnerable all the time. i’m always so nostalgic and unhinged, always looking for a hook to prop the sum of my parts upon until it just can’t take the weight. if i could have chosen, would i have chose this? to be so almost-fallible, so weak-kneed. always having to be tough enough to hold the pieces together incase someone comes along and throws it all to shit. walking on eggshells, on damp memories, the leaves left behind from who i used to be and collecting in all the places where i used to go. my thoughts are crop circles, and i chase them and trace them and run in circles trying to pull it all out from me and see it for what it really is. i could never stop writing, because this is who i am. after-thoughts and left-over regrets, hurricanes and cheap champagne and soft drinks and never-meants and all the things you always wanted to say but didn’t know how. i was born broken and this is the only way i know how to string all the pieces back together. even when it hurts and even when it’s hard and even when i’m just broken glass and skinned knees. this is the only thing i’ve ever know.
i find i don’t even have time to think.
there’s nothing going on outside of my life of things i have to do…
people are disappearing, things i used to do no longer happen anymore…
i don’t like it.
i’m losing time
and getting old.
because of a lack of other words to say.
maybe i run out.
maybe i want to have it said back to have a sense of security. or at least temporary care.
I know that I can’t make you stay.
But I would give my final breath
to make you understand how beautiful you are.
