Don’t want to miss a daily, but in no mood to wax poetic about a day that was rather ordinary and brutally full of people. Over peopled. Over talked. Over it.
Don’t want to miss a daily, but in no mood to wax poetic about a day that was rather ordinary and brutally full of people. Over peopled. Over talked. Over it.
I’ve spent a lot of time in parking lots lately. I go do some chores or run around and when im done, I’ll often sit in my car listening to music or sleeping. I’ve got a favorite spot in town right now. It’s quiet, off the beaten path and the view is killer. It’s great …
the goddamn door is back. I’ve written about this mother fucker seventeen ways from Sunday trying to purge it from my stories. I’ve burned it, drowned it, built it, torn it off its hinges with hatchets and bare hands, buried it, carved it and ignored it. It creeps in and sooner or later each of …
….all the time, every day. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s ridiculous. Crazy. Sad. I’m not what you need or want; you’ve made that abundantly clear and I’m not writing this hoping you’ll suddenly wake up and see how much better we are together than apart. This past year proves how irresponsible …
Knowing myself like I do, I know that something’s not quite right. There’s a bit of an offness in the internal dialogue. I can’t put my finger on it, it’s just a wrong that’s seeping around the edges. Like light under a door. There’s a quality of lightness; you know that somewhere on the other …
She had strange dreams in his bed. Not nightmares, but dreams full of tension and hurt that didn’t belong to her. He’d feel her shifting in the night, tangled in the sheets and he’d pull her into his side, cradling her body against his. She’d sigh. They’d drift apart and the dreamswould start all over. …
Friday is the worst. Thinking about that drive, waiting to hear what I already knew. The feeling of having to be “okay” because no one needed to know. The feeling that maybe it was going to be okay because I hadn’t heard. Then knowing it was over. I really think Fridays are the worst. Another …
He was pushing her away. He did that. She wasn’t having it. It was difficult to convince him that she wasn’t like the others. She didn’t want to own him or change him or make him into something he had no desire to be. She wanted him the way he was when she’d met him; …
Sometimes I’ll catch you and later you can catch me. It’s a good feeling knowing someone’s there to pull the cord when I forget to.
It’s after midnight, closerto 1:00 am and I’m sitting in the dark full of thoughts about how loss is all around us all the time. It’s not a great way to wake up. I can’t see a time when this won’t be who I am. I think about tomorrow (today) and try to plan ways …
Bountiful Words, Beautiful World 