fall or fly.
Tenth floor, wide open windows, I’ve had bad thoughts, I admit.
I am weary.
Asking the right questions
having the right friends
I’m going to fucking fly.
Someday soon, when I have a home and my life is not encapsulated in a van that contains the rest of my life, I might be able to write again. Write like I did, write like I was me. I’m not me anymore – but I put up a good front, and I can’t express how much I appreciate the people who have given up their personal space for me – but that will change soon.
Starting Sunday next week, A & I have decided that it would be best if I were only here for three nights – the rest I’m crashing in the van. I’m sick of asking people for things – I want to give. I’ll figure that out, and this doesn’t make any sense at all.
Someday soon, when I have my own home, when I have my own bed, when I come back to me – I’ll be able to write womething interesting.
Time to find my wings again.