I'm going to be your lover when the floods roll back

It's a sweet kind of day, a sweet kind of life. I have few conflicts and less trouble. Sometimes I enjoy the odd flashing interruption, a hidden pink-white ulcer in the recess of gum, hot bright jagged pain unexpected but welcome. I worry at it purposely sometimes, and it feels a little like a good hurt.

I don't know what I am anymore, but I guess that's alright because this is what I've been advocating through the ages, right? Indefatigable, undefinable. I've figured out this much, at least.

- I'm still trying to grasp at a fantastic work ethic, but it's better
- I care about my friends a lot, but maybe only in little bursts convenient to me. Even so, it wouldn't kill them to call me once in awhile.
- I shut myself away a lot.
- I should get over my insecurities or lose some weight.
- I enjoy instant noodles, like when I was little. I've always liked the word 'renaissance' - to be reborn, a rebirth. If I could do things over would I?
- Who am I kidding? Of course.
- I need to get a clue about what I want to do, what I will do.
- I can write. Sometimes. Once in awhile I like to think that it's good stuff.


That's it. Right now. My feet hurt, and my heart aches a little - what for, I don't even really know. Maybe a little of absent friends, a touch of mourning for a slow dying in the dark, a sliver of affection from all the wrong sources. For leaning too hard on straw houses and finding no bricks. I'm okay, I really am, I just wish that I could laugh without feeling that little bit of hidden pain, the ceaseless reminder.


To run away a little bit. That would be nice.