It's rather unfortunate we're so much alike. We may have been friends.
My favorite part of writing is seeing the battery slowly lose power as I'm typing. It's like a race against time. Time is infinite. And my thoughts are infintite. Yet I'm still impossibly scared that I'll run out of time and thoughts. I wish I could carry a recorder around with me at all time to capture every single one of my thoughts. So abstract. So real. So raw. Certain thoughts make my skin crawl and others give me goosebumps. I look for the ones that make my skin crawl in a good way.
I miss you a lot. But which one of you? I have no idea which one of you I miss. On the one hand, you were good for fun. On the other hand, you were bad for my health. All of you. I'm constantly amazed how just the meer image of that time in my life can bring me all the way back. It's like I've time traveled. There you are, stumbling over your words, forgiving me for not finding mine.
I can't seem to shake you. Time and time again, I come back to your face, hair, lips. I can't remember much about you, but what I do...oh what I do. I think of tear stains. And hair dye. And unwanted, unwilling piercings. And curls.
Stuck. Stuck in something I can't...I can't... what is it about being stuck in a moment that's so hard. CHIODOS! Make that feeling go away. Please. Make those awful shakes go away. Please. I'm not cut out for this.