Hope There's Someone
Listening to Antony and the Johnsons. And it's killing me.
I'm sick of being so nostalgic. I've been nostalgic and yearning to go back to the States ever since I came back, and as much as miss you all I hate that. Usually I find myself in that sort of mood from time to time just like everyone else, and it's not sticking to the back of my mind the way it's been doing lately. Piano sounds are hard to bear tonight and the cello sounds like it's made of iron, its bow penetrating my sore chest like a saw. The voice of Antony hurts. Sorry for the bad LJ drama, but I've been awfully mopey these days. There are good things, but they're just like sun spots on hot summer afternoons, glimmering in dark rooms when all windows are closed. Sneaking in nearly by accident.
I'm afraid I've never felt that lonely.