10.3.17
It's night-- it always is whenever I choose to write.
The write-worthy thoughts never occur to me during the daytime, or if they do it's only in small snippets, not enough to fully process or expand upon.
The nighttime is when the thoughts come out to play, to unfold before me, to haunt the very space in which they were born and bred. And thus, I'm forced to write them down, or type them out, or do anything to get them fucking away from orbiting my train of thought and prevent me from functioning.
So here we are, it's 8:20 PM as I'm writing this, it'll be late once I'm finished, finally satisfied with my thoughts and deem them ready to publish. I know nobody is reading this, but a small sliver of me hopes someone is, although no one cares enough to, I hardly do.
I feel like I can't escape any of this, like everything from my past is hurting and I can't stitch anything up in order to move on.
I see all of her Snapchats and am once again reminded of those two days saturated in pure bliss and summer sun and dripping sunsets. Once again I'm reminded that I meant nothing. I always mean nothing. I stood by and let all of it happen, knowing that if she didn't bring up our interlocked hands underneath that sticky diner table, then I wouldn't have pursued any of it.
As always, someone leads and I follow.
I follow because there's a part of me that fucking screams if I don't, thinking that maybe reaching outside of the immediate, very limited comfort zone will somehow benefit me and my love life. So I step out, I explore and then am shooed back into that zone the second I'm hurt, left wondering why I even bothered in the first place.
I follow a breadcrumb trail thinking it'll lead me to true love, assuming that maybe this will be my chance, this will be the shot I need, that this is the prime opportunity... but then I lose my way and suddenly I'm lost in a forest of feelings and confusion and I just want to find my way back again.
So here I am, 8:35 PM, and she tells me to come and get her at her room so we could hang out and last night she was on my bed, under my blankets, my head was on my pillow as her hands brushed gently, nervously, over my hair, and I'm following a trail once again and please don't let me get fucking lost.
The write-worthy thoughts never occur to me during the daytime, or if they do it's only in small snippets, not enough to fully process or expand upon.
The nighttime is when the thoughts come out to play, to unfold before me, to haunt the very space in which they were born and bred. And thus, I'm forced to write them down, or type them out, or do anything to get them fucking away from orbiting my train of thought and prevent me from functioning.
So here we are, it's 8:20 PM as I'm writing this, it'll be late once I'm finished, finally satisfied with my thoughts and deem them ready to publish. I know nobody is reading this, but a small sliver of me hopes someone is, although no one cares enough to, I hardly do.
I feel like I can't escape any of this, like everything from my past is hurting and I can't stitch anything up in order to move on.
I see all of her Snapchats and am once again reminded of those two days saturated in pure bliss and summer sun and dripping sunsets. Once again I'm reminded that I meant nothing. I always mean nothing. I stood by and let all of it happen, knowing that if she didn't bring up our interlocked hands underneath that sticky diner table, then I wouldn't have pursued any of it.
As always, someone leads and I follow.
I follow because there's a part of me that fucking screams if I don't, thinking that maybe reaching outside of the immediate, very limited comfort zone will somehow benefit me and my love life. So I step out, I explore and then am shooed back into that zone the second I'm hurt, left wondering why I even bothered in the first place.
I follow a breadcrumb trail thinking it'll lead me to true love, assuming that maybe this will be my chance, this will be the shot I need, that this is the prime opportunity... but then I lose my way and suddenly I'm lost in a forest of feelings and confusion and I just want to find my way back again.
So here I am, 8:35 PM, and she tells me to come and get her at her room so we could hang out and last night she was on my bed, under my blankets, my head was on my pillow as her hands brushed gently, nervously, over my hair, and I'm following a trail once again and please don't let me get fucking lost.
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