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[__________maura]

And whenever I was alone, the lights were low, and I would dance foolishly with myself in whatever space I could find sometimes even waltzing diagonally through the room for mileage, and down the hall. No one would know, and it wouldnt matter if they did. Only for a second, and I can remember him laughing at me so surprised to find me sitting indian style sipping solid fruit listening to what could be my new favorite song, or it would have been then. The now things then seem so surreal, always. I have to laugh. It doesnt make sense for me to be so unhappy with all these things going on in my head, all the moments where I just said fuck it, and made way for good. And it was. so. good. If we could rewind back to the days we spent laying in bed forgetting about windows, when everything came as a shock, even after months, constantly so close, not even steps but inches at a time, making everything matter in its own way. Each memory reserved for something and there are so many. Even after it went bad, and back to good, where it wasn't just love but friendship overflowing with attraction, and basically addiction to each other. Instead of hiding, wanting. And every car sounded like yours only because I wanted your arrival so bad. And now? Im not sure how it would end up but most likely the same. "Oh so you're maura" he says. It's mostly strange, because I don't know. I really don't know. Im actually not even sure if I said yes to such of accusation. He looked good, and different, and it's been 3 years. He's seemed to have grown down instead of up, and I want to tell him how beautiful I think that is, but I know it's wrong. Or maybe it's only really wrong, because he wouldnt be so flattered with my observation, not like how he used to be. "You change lives" he says, and I just wanted to scream "Stranger! who is telling you these circus stories, lives? I rarely change my clothes." But I just laughed. Because thats all I ever do. His friend did all the talking, and that friend wasn't me. And just so it's easier (not easier but more enclosed), I ignore all of this for the most part and focus on bullshit meaningless goals that just further my own demise. And so it goes, always. Has been like this forever. Never satisfied, denying all things positive so I can stay stuck like this until I just can't take it anymore. I thought I had built up some form of immunity to this fucking bullshit, but if anything, it's really just taken over. I know if I think about it I really don't want to go back to being uncertain of how many unsteady steps I'd be able to take before collapsing dead on the floor, and I really am so tired of sailing on the high seas every weekend, and having my soul be completely shipwrecked all week. all day, every day. and I know I shouldnt be here. Hitting bottom used to be so enlightening, but falling through the ground... not so much. And I know, I could wake up tomorrow, and change everything, and think differently, and live. But like, nah. I'll probably just wake up angry that Im fat, miserable, and braindead. Actually, I probably won't even sleep. I really do need to grow up, Im really too old to be this much of a dramagay. Ick.

i miss.

it's just really hard to believe things will get better. and it's not even like i feel sorry for myself. im just like "oh..." all the timeeeeeeee, but i guess not really because it hurts. fkldasjfkjdsfkdsfdskj huh.