Thinking of you walking the backstreets of the city, avoiding my eye, wherever I might be looking. I’m offended by the lack of respect the weather shows you. As much as you like to think I don’t see you, I do. Windblown and wet, hair slicked to your forehead. Eyes squinting and stance closed. I was standing across the street, by the way. I went to call your name but I can imagine the wind tearing my words apart like confetti, so only a handful of disjointed vowel sounds would transcend to your side of the world. The side that knows me and doesn’t want to. It’s a side I can’t cross to, obviously. I should have just yelled my own name instead.
Crossing my legs in your direction, just in case you’re wondering what’s between them.
I’d like to see myself on the street just so I could see what other people see, when they see this clumsy girl on the street, dropping bags and books and cords and muesli bars, split-ends spilling into my eyes, dirty fingernails and worn clothes. Sometimes I wonder why people want to meet me in the first place, can’t they see I’d just end up embarrassing them in some way?
Sex clears your sinuses. Sweet. The thought of having sex with someone really ill kinda sickens me though. I just get this mental image of a terminal patient lying spread eagled like ‘yeah, clear my fucking sinuses’. God just even the word ‘sinuses’ sounds disgusting.
More spiders than smiles in my house up until recently. I haven’t laughed so hard at nothing in so long.
I’m catching my breath at my sisters latest instalment into her mental state. Catching it and keeping it, to send to her when I can form words again. My nails have grown long again, but for how long. I can’t keep up being the sane sibling for much longer. We are miles apart but I feel like i’m curled up in the corner of her mind, fighting away the swimming darkness that invades her nights. That’s me. Sleeping in fits and starts, awoken by nightmares that she might just stop breathing. So I catch my breath, in case she needs it one day [soon]. In the meantime, my knees are pulled up to my chest, and I’m pushed up against where her spine meets her neck, holding a flickering light to remind her that there’s always something. There’s always something.