i am going to try something i am not comfortable with.
(nothing n e w)
oh, well.
i feel like i might need this place again. maybe not for anyone, maybe not even fully for myself. i'm not decent at writing, but i'm better at writing than speaking. speaking is painful.
there's ice in my chest.
i remember writing last year. and the year before that. i remember how much it hurt and how the sand slowed me down. i try to remember weeks but all i can remember are dull flashes, grey rings. i'm trying to be poetic. stop, stop, s t o p.
i was so gone. and i never came back.
i want to tell some more stories. they don't mean much, and they don't end, but i miss dwindling down.
not mona anymore, but close enough. who is mona? i tried to sort that out, once. i had dreams i was dying, bones collapsing. mona was shaking, and i guess maybe that means i have to wake up now.
i really meant it. thank you so much.
