Tuesday



3:22 AM 1m 52s

and i feel like… what is real for yourself, and what is abstract? and what you bring to us… is so kind and true. and it's… you being… deal one, deal two, deal three. every move is calculated… but so softly so. and that… we couldn't be there without you… and that you provide so much and… make us feel so little. that is probably the reason… why everything you do… is so softly done. so softly spoken… i believe it's true! i agree…… and then i run and i hide and i… try to forget that i'm a… person, and that i… do it. and that i… do it myself and that… nothing you say is actually important to me… and that i create other things and myself and… realities of…unspoken… worlds you could… never tap into. not even if you tried.

california here we come

There are some things that remain as beautiful. Like the spot on your coat. Like the way you ignore all of us until you are very, very drunk. Like how it feels right and legitimate to be under the roofing of your house eating stale chips and making dry jokes and excusing no bad behavior no more. How you make us feel awfully uncomfortable for an awful two hours until you're okay and swinging with everybody else after wine. You've forgotten your deep woes. You're finally connected.

It feels cool in the body when we can sense that you're cool with everybody else. All I ever wished for was for you to be relaxed and at home. After all, isn't this home? I can somewhat get the fact that you hate it all and that nothing feels real really. I'm with you on that. I feel like you belong some place else.