I dont want to deconstruct my shit into blog entry titles and neatly categorize life’s arduousness and goodness. this is a public forum, these internets, but fuck it.

After we disconnect and cut some cord of a mess from each other so we are something awfully separate and something along the lines of kindred spirits with too many connections anmd likenesses to count

I am sitting alone with fifty people in some dirty hipster café and my face is wet thinking about sitting across from you at this small table and holding your ticking hands and fingers. Or, my brother and sister laughing and
there are all of these relationships that I have that are so big and deep! It is at once a joy and a fucking bloody mess like the carpet this morning when I was scared but mostly thinking of little things like dirty clothes and the drive to the airport but not how you look the last morning with your back to me and your skin bright in the sun.

But with no you and no work and no drive there is no reason. C’mon. Come on.