It's funny how when you find the words to say, you find no reply...
I've been stoned a lot lately. More throughout the past couple days than I'd like to entirely admit. My head is much clearer for a couple hours at a time, things loudly obvious and stripped of all their bullshit. So when I feel sobriety seeping it's way back into my thoughts, I smoke a little more. A pothead's week. And I can see how that'd be important once in a while. I can see a lot of things.
I've been thinking about you more again lately. Lately is a lame term, it's only been a couple weeks since we've spoken directly. A lot's happened. I've been wondering if it's the same on your end. Always wondering, I guess. Last I read, you seemed to had come across something I have, for a long time, wanted you to see. For which some reasons (if any at all) I am dying to know. For one that's made an outright impression on you. It's like I'm only really happy when I'm getting news about you.
You've been a pretty steady friend for a long time. There are times when we don't speak much, when we're living our lives with mostly independence. Even then it would seem we have an understanding of what's going on with each other. You're the closest person to me, besides my mother. It really is a sad thing when I make the move to remove you from myself in hopes that will preserve the closeness. Somehow I feel you'll catch the sense of that. It never ceases to fail after I appreciate the closeness for too much, instead of an honest bond between friends. And I pull you away when you do continue to live your life, as it were for just yourself. When I feel so self-important I have a hard time handling being indirectly involved in your life. It's unfair to you, and I feel when I do so it's nothing better than an abuse of the consistency of that bond.
You're a constant feeling in the back of my mind. And on the semi-rare occassion when you do fully surface in a consentrated thought, you come back with fortification. With the time that's passed, since we broke, a sense of love for everything about you has grown to an almost numbing effect, and continues to strengthen as the months ware on. I see myself thinking much of what you've thought. Understanding it in the simple motion of being provoked to think it myself. Taking a portion of every astonishingly beautiful experience I have and wishing I could show you what it's like when I see it.
It is a constant trip. Even more so, imeasurably, when you're around.
I've been thinking about you more again lately. Lately is a lame term, it's only been a couple weeks since we've spoken directly. A lot's happened. I've been wondering if it's the same on your end. Always wondering, I guess. Last I read, you seemed to had come across something I have, for a long time, wanted you to see. For which some reasons (if any at all) I am dying to know. For one that's made an outright impression on you. It's like I'm only really happy when I'm getting news about you.
You've been a pretty steady friend for a long time. There are times when we don't speak much, when we're living our lives with mostly independence. Even then it would seem we have an understanding of what's going on with each other. You're the closest person to me, besides my mother. It really is a sad thing when I make the move to remove you from myself in hopes that will preserve the closeness. Somehow I feel you'll catch the sense of that. It never ceases to fail after I appreciate the closeness for too much, instead of an honest bond between friends. And I pull you away when you do continue to live your life, as it were for just yourself. When I feel so self-important I have a hard time handling being indirectly involved in your life. It's unfair to you, and I feel when I do so it's nothing better than an abuse of the consistency of that bond.
You're a constant feeling in the back of my mind. And on the semi-rare occassion when you do fully surface in a consentrated thought, you come back with fortification. With the time that's passed, since we broke, a sense of love for everything about you has grown to an almost numbing effect, and continues to strengthen as the months ware on. I see myself thinking much of what you've thought. Understanding it in the simple motion of being provoked to think it myself. Taking a portion of every astonishingly beautiful experience I have and wishing I could show you what it's like when I see it.
It is a constant trip. Even more so, imeasurably, when you're around.