... is missing him and wanting to talk to him and listen to him and can't believe she's writing about this on a public blog ("private" journal). really. she's been weaning herself (as if there was a choice) from him for months - surely it's been too long to actually suffer withdrawals. they're just imaginary symptoms now, the disease has long since died out. the ice cream is going cold (see what she did there?) turkey, but his final ties should be easy to cut (snip, snip). there are no more one last chances. it doesn't take a crystal ball or overdressed psychic or potter-esque centaur (though she is partial to tea leaves, but not for reading. words are for reading, people are for... being people) to see the signs.
Stop. not Yield. do not Proceed With Caution. Stop.
* * * * *
... has a 90's-era German band pop song stuck in her head. it opened up her mind.
2 comments:
What is...um...wait, what happened and, uh...do I...no, probably...Hmm.
Okay, now we TOTALLY have to hang out. Let me check "my book" and get back to you. Its crazy busy, but I still have high hopes.
Not to worry - turns out writing this down really cleared things up for me. It's like poetry is actually Industrial-Strength Emotional Solvent. Without the fumes. Sweet!
Post a Comment