I even fell for your stupid love song. And for your cheek against mine, and your fingers on my hips, too briefly. You're the only person as touchy-feely as I like, and the only person missing. I'm not too sure, where everything is, or what 's happening, where people are. I am sure, and I think it's the little, foul yellow things I swallow that make this happen, I am sure in my own head. It's like riding a horse, and your hips are swaying along, but your head is perfectly still. My head is perfectly still and the whole world is spinning. It makes a change, for the world not to be spinning. Of course, but I know that it is! It is physics, or some rubbish. But everyone else is moving, is it a centrifugal force? They are spinning away, flying off, away and out and growing up. Um. The only person whose hand I want to hold. I'm so dumb, because I fall like this everytime, and when everyone said that I couldn't handle it, I think they were right. Everything is anaesthetized, not completely real. It's not real! Because I don't feel anything! And too much is something, that I know and I exist in. This in between, it is better. it is better? they say, it is. I don't think so, but i am moving towards this, hoping. it is good, is it working! BUT i want to feel.
I thought it was quite funny, I got home from my interview, and my feet ached a little bit, and my dad said "I don't think it's a good idea. You getting a job...", "But," I half-heartedly spluttered, "you've been telling me to get a job for two years" "Yes, but in theory. In practice maybe it isn't a good idea" And then he went and looked for some crisps.
This morning we picked apples from the apple tree in our garden, and it was kinda grey and I had wellies on and we climbed up the tree, pulled all the apples, tree dripping with apples, then we held out a sheet underneath while Sinead and Tom shook the branches and we covered our heads with our hands, but I got one squarely on the top of my head. And I thought it was a strange thing for us to do, but it was good. This is leaking out of my brain, because I am trying to say something, or not. Waiting for you to realise? Maybe it's futile, but it is and it is what I do, what I am. But I'm still waiting for that too., so yes. today, tomorrow, find me.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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