Bad postured on a nearly disfunctional wooden seat needing a leg change. Weak limbs, terribly swollen jaw, oily hair, and Morals by iceage on replay in the background 'cause the lyrics make me feel like I want the tips of my fingers to melt into a scurrying of brilliance to match the brilliance of the song. If only.
I thought about how I wish I could have seen them when they were here in March.
My thoughts then transitioned into more analytical realms, remembering that clear night when J spilled to me one of the most confident, yet hurtful statements which I deem too personal to ever share again. Due to the fact that my reasons are disclosed, hopefully this serves as a small hint to what I'm trying to become.
I've been wearing the same black floral dress for the past two days. She was in a tasteless outfit when I saw her that day, and I discretely told her that she really isn't all that bad. For a moment I wanted to apologize for all the secret hatred I had snaking in me. That I kept folding and unfolding with a fear of choosing a side on either of the divide because I thought I'd be wrong anyway. I saw her, and when I did, I felt the same. She looked at me with a kind of look that told me I deserved more. But sometimes, when J looks at me in the eyes, I'm more than ready to pull that thread that was knotted between the two to have him closer and just shed fear.
Dear J, I want to ask you why.