Monday, December 31, 2012

Being Human

I feel comfortable holding your hand, like I am not worrying about sweating too much, or moving too much. 

Like I am not worried about anything.

Five months from this very moment I will be rocking back and forth on the couch questioning my existence.

I will be checking your every status update, deleting you and re-requesting you.

I will stalk your web presence the way I traced your body with imaginary fingers.

I will poke you, and cry into a pillow “love me back or stab me I don’t care I just want something to happen.”

I talked to a friend once about my depression, I asked him what the fuck am I even doing here,
to which he replied, “being human.”

and I felt like everything made sense and I was going to be ok or something.

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