i wish i had softer hair.

i cried in the shower, sitting on the floor.

first time since i got here. first time

since i left.

i wish i could dismiss all feelings of regret or thoughts turned second. it's been one week, now... and i've eight less close friends and one less job. one weekend and everyday to fill with this screen. i can't drown out the din of my cousin's t.v upstairs. don't want to cover it with other noise. music/noise. all of it, noise. 

i don't know why he has it so loud, or why the sound comes down the stairs more often than he does. 

 i'm forced to imagine my other life, and the me i unplugged... what i'd be doing right now. who i'd be with. 

why did i go? why did i go? i don't remember.

i have to keep reminding myself that i really wasn't happy.

my problem, always, it seems.

never remembering things quite as they really were.

maybe that's why i devote so much of myself to the past. 

why i seem to live there.

it's deluded. am i?

[she said 

if you had let yourself fall in love with me...]

my dreams are born, and die before they cry.

i can't do this right now. i have wine to drink, again, and dreams to birth and watch turn blue

waiting

waiting

for me to slap them into being.

but i won't.

for now,

i'll crawl back into the shower

and wait til it dries//

make it wet again.