18. Maybe it's you.
A desire to be in the physical vacinity of you has me so emotionally attached to the idea of a forever.
This time, my thoughts are actually coherent but I can't make sense. My life revolves around an agendum. I feel like being selfish for a day, a month, who knows, maybe even a year.
Here one day and gone the next, I'll leave messages unreplied, phonecalls unreturned and if I say that I'll see you, I probably won't. I feel like crying till the knot forms in my throat. I feel like screaming till my voice box disintegrates & rupture. I feel like I need to write a book to make everyone understand these days. It comes to a point in time that I don't even want anyone to understand because trying is so burdensome. Oh, don't bullcrap me and say "You understand" because that's a banality and we both know you don't. Maybe that's your way of showing concern but really, I just want to be left alone.
It would be nice to feel a hand brush the hair off of my face as I read these words off the screen again and again. Sometimes, no words of comfort are needed. Sit here with me, but don't try to understand.
Ow, my eyes sting.
Labels: Stranger still than fiction.
