An Open Letter
Dear Internet,
Why do I always think you can make things better, absolve my wounds, wash away the dust of the day, when I know that you won't? When I know that all I will see is friends and hardly friends and once were friends spread over great distances? When I know that no virtual hug could ever compare to one in real life? Why, when I am apparently too exhausted to do anything but sit on the computer, do I still feel such an unsatisfactory weight in my gut?
Go Do Fly Run Try Something New and Fall Gracefully.
But I'm TIRED. And the edges don't match at the seams, and people don't make sense and I'm tangled in the fence between thinking and being, nighttime and morning, wanting and seeing, adventure and boring-on and off like a lightswitch, or a nervous twitch, or a program glitch. All comes down to a chemical mix making tricks make me swing like a puppet on strings from the spinal cord. So when all I see is closed doors it is EASIER not no please, not to smile and wave, not to tease the could be friendships out-doubt it would come to any good. Plug in to the screen, I did what I could.
So here this is internet, for your eyes. A never ending loop. Nothing solved, nothing gained, nothing lost. Eat it up for what it's worth.
Love,
Shaina
Why do I always think you can make things better, absolve my wounds, wash away the dust of the day, when I know that you won't? When I know that all I will see is friends and hardly friends and once were friends spread over great distances? When I know that no virtual hug could ever compare to one in real life? Why, when I am apparently too exhausted to do anything but sit on the computer, do I still feel such an unsatisfactory weight in my gut?
Go Do Fly Run Try Something New and Fall Gracefully.
But I'm TIRED. And the edges don't match at the seams, and people don't make sense and I'm tangled in the fence between thinking and being, nighttime and morning, wanting and seeing, adventure and boring-on and off like a lightswitch, or a nervous twitch, or a program glitch. All comes down to a chemical mix making tricks make me swing like a puppet on strings from the spinal cord. So when all I see is closed doors it is EASIER not no please, not to smile and wave, not to tease the could be friendships out-doubt it would come to any good. Plug in to the screen, I did what I could.
So here this is internet, for your eyes. A never ending loop. Nothing solved, nothing gained, nothing lost. Eat it up for what it's worth.
Love,
Shaina