feeling it on a cellular level.

[unaluna]

pretending to listen to music because i can't actually bring myself to listen to real music
highly, highly doubting any of it, regardless of genre or gender of the artist, would make me feel better
so it doesn't seem worth the time.
tiptoeing around exposing myself to things that would cause more pain, out of curiosity and boredom
but checking on things that still pick at the wound
unrelated or not and it isn't their fault
i guess it's my fault for tiptoeing but i'm trying a new method
because statistically, this bullshit should never happen to me again
and i've had my share now, and i'm getting to do things two totally opposite ways
and we all know- i mean we ALL know- that the first time around, when i was eighteen, nothing was effective
so maybe this time will be different, somehow.
i'm just doing what i think i am capable of, what i've been told is the best way.
maybe someday i'll look back and be proud of myself.
there's a thunderstorm outside, no one is home on the inside but me
this would be a perfect, perfect night
to have a repeat of the night in january
before the beginning of the end
when there was wine and beer and something good to eat
and something good to watch
and someone special to touch
and snow in the winter would now be replaced by rain in the spring
and i like you's would be replaced by i love you's
if the world was right instead of all wrong.