d*land

I woke up in pieces.

These conversations run through my head, playing tag. Feels like I've got a vice, and the pressure is killing me. All of these things to say, to tell you. Some to you, and others to you. I can't keep track, there's no one to tell. I'm running out of room, so I put things here, to get them out, they have to come out. All of it.

I've wrapped the presents, but there are no name tags on them, I've mixed them up, I don't know what goes to what, and where I'm to send it.

My typing isn't fast enough, I'm straining my eyes, my wrists want to go to bed, take a bath, do other things. I could short circuit at anytime.

I can't remember. It was something important, that slipped away. Something I felt I had to tell you in that second, I needed to tell you. Maybe I was in the shower, I would have called your name, in hopes of your answer. Maybe it was when I opened the front door, and the only sound was my cough echoing on the hard wood floor. Maybe it was when I was sitting here, trying to remember with these words ringing in my head.

It's not. The words. It's the way they are drawn.

12.30.02 || 7:41 pm

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