You can write. But you can't edit.

[najy]

I find it odd that I haven't cried in over a month.
I can feel the tears, like the inverse pictures of bright lights, behind my eyeballs.

My emotions are so drained, I'm detached from everything. I'm home alone. On a friday night.
And I want to read a book. But I might go out, just so I don't feel lame.

Why am I so afraid of being home alone?
What is it about myself I don't want to face?

I miss being in love.
And yet, I think I'm on the way with someone else. And it's terrifying.
I was going to sleep with someone else, and all I could think of was her. So I didn't.

Which scares the fuck out of me.

Regina is playing.
I might just start crying.
If I start, will I stop?

I miss my friends. It's as simple as calling to find someone. But it's not.
no.
it's not.

ok.
so now I'm crying. is this too immediate an entry?

You have tamed me.
now you must take me.

Lady sings the blues so well. As if she means it.

I want to write a poem.
I want to sing a song so blue that you will cry in spite of you. Little wet tears. On your baby's shoulder.

I'm sick of it.
Days running and blending into other days. Relying on exhausion and coffee to sleep and wake.
Always keeping my bed full. my life full.
every day is scheduled so as not to feel anything missing.

I don't want to get back with him,
but there's something about lying with him that hasn't been replaced yet.

there is an itch inside me.
to listen to bright eyes. that kind of itch.

I should do things. Instead I obsess over text messages unreplied to and miss people who have just left my house.

If I kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?
will you feel anything at all?

I don't know.