I had this idea once

that love meant sharing mundanity with someone.

like if you were cutting vegetables while someone sorted the mail then

you had arrived.
there’s this moment, actually, when you stop trying to change yourself and instead start trying to get to know yourself.
it’s actually the path of least resistance, but lessening your resistance is quite difficult, like floating on water
in a pool that you just noticed feels
too crowded
and opening your chest to the sun and your eyes to
the people is dangerous
just identify the exit and go there

It’s harder now that I know what it should feel like

the ceiling curves and I didn’t notice for three months

firing off chances and reaches at thumb’s pace

why can’t I just have someone to read to me
it’s difficult to describe without ascribing
it’s hard to write without a cohesive finisher
it’s unsettling to be “in” it all the time

for such a strong willed person I sure do
live at the whim of others

I don’t trust a word you say. not really. even though I told you I did.
it’s harder now that I know what it should feel like