and i wish you did.

I used to write all the time.

About anything and everything I thought I could wrap my brain around.

I wouldn’t hardly talk to a soul, for days on end. Just wrapped up inside myself. A cocoon?

Like I was waiting for myself to take form and gather strength to….barf.

Or at least smoke a cigarette.

Don’t lose the illusion lover.

Don’t let anyone in.

I still write. Quite a bit.

Smaller, less significant things.

Things about people that don’t really matter.

Or at least I don’t really matter to them.

This is not a pity party.

Because I hate to party alone.

I think I’ve talked myself down.

Not from the ledge, but from the ladder…while I was on my way to the top.

I said ‘no’.

And I listened.

One of the rare times I actually obeyed.

Now, I’m stuck with a senselessness that is just fucking senseless.

I’m having trouble being by myself.

But I won’t swim in a sea of regret.

Not even a little bit.

Because I’m capable of more and less.

And this is not the end of the end.

Put the phone away miss markle.

No one will hear a peep from you.

Not any kind of noise.

Because noise annoys, and you should be quiet as a mouse.

Sleep would be ideal.