A continuation.
I just smashed a small knat into my computer screen and I feel bad about it. I'm also listening to mellow, perhaps depressing, but definately over dramatic songs about... whatever. I know that this doesn't justify me making a livejournal entry, but then again, neither does most of my life. I shouldn't even have one of these things. You could use a
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I killed a tiny moth last night, thinking it was a gnat, and I felt horrible. It smeared soft, gray powder when I wiped it away. Don't they say that moths are the souls of the dead? I destroyed a soul.
I'll thank God for you, and for me. I do every night.
You're taking a nap now but it's sunny outside, warm, your breeze is blowing, and I'm thinking of you. I wish we had chimes, they remind me of my mamaw's house, and my childhood. Maybe it'll start raining tonight. That only reminds me of you...
I feel the same way about having to be covered before I sleep, and I always have. I feel secure with the blanket. Anything can get you if you're not protected. When I was younger, I'd run into my room, turn off the light, jump into bed, and get under the covers. As soon as I got under the covers, I'd turn on my side and cover half my face with the blanket so that I couldn't see what was lurking behind me. If you can't see them, they can't see you.
Months and months ago, you told me you didn't like anyone touching your neck, especially the throat. But you let me kiss you there, on that tender underside, and I felt that you trusted me. It doesn't seem like a lot, but it meant so much to me, and sometimes I think about it.
It's nice to reminisce, but better to grow from what you did have and build upon it, than to be nostalgic. Nostalgia is bittersweet, and it makes you less appreciative of what you do have.
Your house is haunted. Don't lie to yourself. Gorillas and little girls poke their heads into your door at night.
Whenever we get our cars, we'll get lost together on back roads and interstates if you'd like. Whatever you want, we'll do it. Though I'd prefer to pass over blowing off our own legs.
Alone time leaves you with reflection and introspection. One of my favorite times, sans being with you, of course. I love to write when I feel that way. Anything and everything. But mostly these random thoughts that you're having here. I love to delve deeper into those thoughts. Sometimes they get so personal you can't share them with anyone else, and sometimes you discover traits about yourself that you've never noticed before. Those revelations, personal or factual, hold the little secrets to life...but you obviously know that.
A song for you, my lovely, that reminds me of your soul pour:
Death Cab For Cutie - Soul Meets Body
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what it's like to be new
Cause in my head there's a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
Where they're far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another's
And not one speck will remain
I do believe it's true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you're the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
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You are a trusted person... I don't think you'll slit my throat.
Your shush, my house is fine. No abnormal stuff here.
I'd love to get lost with you.
... Thank you for the song baby.
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