and it is the most damning feeling because everything continues to go unsaid,
and, for a writer, unspoken words taunt and deprive.
i sat on the couch this afternoon while boyfriend slept, and for several minutes
i tried my best to write what i was feeling.
but i failed to do so.
tonight has been particularly frustrating and i am riding a series of emotions
but failing to write anything else besides this.
sometimes words are simultaneously the best and worst things to happen in my small moments of life.
sometimes old memories are too blatant to push away.
sometimes where you are and where you want to be span so far apart that the in-between feels meaningless.
sometimes i have so much to say, and no one to say it to, that i feel like asking everyone to leave
because i can't stand the thought of another tedious conversation, and i refuse to tell secrets to those who only act as if they can listen.
and sometimes one just has to say, i'm going to be a big girl and take the damn train or car because tomorrow will be just as beautiful as yesterday and as some parts of today.
it's all of the small pent up things that add up into reflections of larger, underlying feelings.
and that is the difference between then and now and me and you.