rw1647
"you nailed it" i said, as i threw more clothes into a ag and turned to face you. "i ever promised you anything, ut you thought i did, you never asked, you just assumed and now you are suddenly surprised when i'm leaving."
i wish i was a practical person. i wish i could think with reason and clarity and always do what is best and logical. but i think with my heart and i react accordingly. i react, that's the problem, i simply move and do without thinking, move and do what my heart tells me, not what i probably should.
i once had a cactus named spike. not the most original name, but that was the irony. That, and naming a cactus in the first place. I also had a cactus named Riprar, after what the rugrats called Reptar in the cartoon. this shows you how braindead i am today that this is all i can write.
i wish i had a diagram of my life, a map showing which piece goes where, what the next step is, a picture of the final result. So maybe i'd at least have a clue whether the end result was worth fighting for.
She showed her affection through touch, soft gestures, a brush of a hand across an arm, a squeeze of a hand in a moment of pain, hugs for everyone, even strangers.
I thought I understoood you, I thought I understood what was going on behind the implacable mask of your face, because I thought you were the other half of me, the mirror held up to my own dark mind.
we cut across the railroad tracks, skipping along the metal rails and wooden boards. beyond lay the woods, dark and deep and full of promise, but still, we lingered along the tracks for a few minutes more, hoping for the rush and thrill of the train.
i think i did this one already.. anyway. so many of my favorite people are flakes, at least at moments. moments of forgetfulness and waves of laughter about things that no one else gets. but i love them because they are the ones that teach me joy, something that is far too easy for me to forget about right now.
the flakes of snow fell softly around her, like white birds againstt he dark sky. The snow seemed to muffle the world. The street that normally rushed with cars, even at this late hour, was blanketed in silence.
sadness has become a habit with me. i forget joy, i forget to see the light and the gentleness and the beauty. i miss the balance. i don't wish to banish the dark, the pain. it is as beautiful in its own way as all the bright, happy things, but i am sick of dwelling on only one side of the vision, only one side of the world/
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