So is this a race?

it's silly really.

minds just race. 

running off on their own on a quiet false start.

only to realize the ballistics they've just put their bodies through.

but how can we prevent. protect. procure.

how can we keep ourselves from lurching forward toward our finish line

before the sure sound of fire.

how painstaking, the moments before the start. 

those moments, and each one feeling like minutes

stand one on top of the other, bumping borders rudely.

It's kind of like...
my love funnels out of me through a hose.
I turned it up to full force and velocity, and the stream of water came so very strong.
And then I lost control of the hose..
and now it's just spraying out everywhere, uncontrollably, with a mind of it's own.
And it won't stop..
Until it runs dry.

I'm not entirely sure if I'm more frightened or excited.
Because the traits your showing, I've realized, are the one's I've wanted out of you the whole time.
To be soft and sad, to be deep and wide, to be unattainable.
That is what I wanted right?

I guess I just thought you'd be all those things, but see me, too.

Am I that fucking damaged that you can feel me pushing you away even when I let you hold me close?

from her lips I heard her say
"Can I have you"

caught up on what to say...
I said "you do".

This is my favorite part of the process.
Everything stings; exploration is in full swing.

But I know by now, all too well...
Which of your little flaws I will slowly press my thumb into,
until I can no longer bear them.

I can't seem to stop studying this moment...


and you....



While I am more than certain that the love I seek does not exist on this earth...

...how badly I want it to be you.

Sorry

I imagine you're ego is bruised.
Guess you shouldn't gamble with something you don't want to lose.

Today I found that I was far more interested in laying in the grass than in the things my generally daily grind had to offer. And conveniently enough the stars aligned in such away as to afford me such luxury.

This is going to be a long week. This is going to be a tough week. My vision is blurry, cloudy. It's always tough to focus on the important things in times like these.

It's tough to recall why the "important things" are the "important things".
It's tough to wonder why my definition of "important" can so quickly and radically alter.

I don't have time to waste on wasting time. What is going to give here?

Calendar

Time it takes to get to know someone on the most minimal of levels. One year.
Time it takes to get to know someone before they get to meet your siblings. 6 months.
Time it takes to get to know someone before they get to meet your parents. 16 months.
Time it takes getting bothered by someone before you actually spend any planned, non-required time with them. 4 months.
Time it takes getting bothered by someone before you actually spend any planned, non-reqiured time alone with them. 6 months.
Time it takes before you appear before someone without frills, makeup adjustments, or an unplanned wardrobe. 6 months.

Time spent fearing getting close to someone and creating rules about never allowing it. eternity.

LOL

Dear Diary

Should I do it? Should I write about my day like you're supposed to in a diary?
I don't really know if you'll like what you'll find.
I don't really know if I'll like what I'll find.
I don't really know if I care.

So it started at 4:44am when my "sleep cycle"  tone entitled Belfast Park rang the alarm that I had rolled over in bed and begun the plunge toward the top of my cyclical resting time. Did you follow that? It's quite a mouthful.

I promptly rolled over again and carried on.

At 7:45 I woke with the bittersweet realization that I had in fact, rolled over again and carried on. At this point, I was 45 minutes late to my first appointment of the day.

Let's pause there momentarily and dissect the word appointment because why not.
The way I like to think of it, and let me tell you I have no idea if this is actually the breakdown, is that you are pointing, with your index finger, at a time of your day and saying "YOU! 3pm!! YOU are the time at which I will do THIS!".

To my defense, I hadn't checked into my full size (not even queen. I don't even get queen!) bed until 12:45am so I desperately earned that extra few hours.

I'm already exhausted writing only this much, and I haven't even walked you through the adventure I explored in the bathroom after waking. I can't do it. I can't write about my day like a normal girl. Maybe you can have highlights. Or lowlights. Or one appointment at a time. There's just SO much intricacy. So much detail. Every sensation is noticed, notated, memorized, recorded and often scarred, seared or branded in.

At this moment I am exhausted.

possession of value

They are sheer and thick gold scissors kept in the muddy bottom of a makeup bag.
They were taken away to be washed, as if someone was trying to be helpful.

what they didn't know was what they were actually taking away from me....