dont be afraid to ask me later. i wont shut down.

what does it feel like to be one step away from understanding?
she's one step away from what she wants. she sits in the corner of her bedroom listing off everything she should be doing to get to where she wants to be. for some reason its so easy for her to say, ill be there, than to actually be there. its so much harder to say it than feel it. she can count to three too, she can count to three words. she likes him, she loves him, she cant get enough of him. heaven is here and silence is heaven, silence would be okay as long as he holds her hand. the moments she's in would no longer be moments she wishes she could share with him, because he'd be those moments. he doesnt know how much she wants to hear the same from him. how she wishes she'd loved you the way she does now, when she had the chance for a replied letter. if this is God's way of teaching her to love, she'd swear she's learned and would swear for him and her together.

what does it feel like to put so much effort into something that isnt gonna work anyway?
she's a silly little girl of 16. she keeps pretending to herself, tricking herself into thinking that 'tomorrow will be better' but it really wont be and she knows it. every effort she puts out there is just wasted breath on love. she has a silly little way of telling stories packed with misconceptions that she believes. silly isnt it. itd be nice if someone would tell her to give up. maybe she'd cry for a while. maybe she'd cry for a long while, probably. but at least then she'd be okay in time instead of walking around feeding on packs of lies and false hopes.

what does it feel like to be so close to something that you lose sight of it?
she's so focused on where she's heading towards that when she gets right next to it and the last step depends on one word, her one word, she cant remember what the word is and what she was thinking when she discovered that was all she needed to end it up.

what does it feel like when the one thing you want so badly is the one thing that hurts?
she's so intent and analytical because she's trying to search out every clue that could lead to a pretty conclusion. she's so intent because she doesnt want to miss a single bit of who she loves. but then of course she's so intent on finding every little clue that she's driving herself to the grave, to her incrazy grave of what-she-aint-got.

what does it feel like to get all that?
it feels like ouch.

and now:
that took way too long

i flip aside my collection of profundities, which is really quite a small list, rather terse at that, and settle with flicking at my bobble head at the back of my drawer until it dawns on me that i was searching for my wallet. i steal my wallet out from under the bobble head
and head
towards the head
of my bed.
i stand perfectly still as to not disturb my thoughts, weighing out which jacket works best for the occasion, o such serious thoughts that i would need to stand still. i settle for my yellow jacket, slip on my heels, toss a mint onto my pillow for later, and step over the threshhold. on my way out the door, i hit my head on the doorframe which is really just a rock and another rock, well, just a line of rocks. a subtle stream of nausea comes over me, but of course i ignore it.
being the night person i am, i pull out my sunglasses to make it darker. misconceptions are such bliss. (and thus,) i am on my way to my irish pub.

love,
ztara