Days ago, riding the subway home, my classmate fell asleep on my shoulder and I felt a comfort wash over me.  I cannot remember the last time I felt that. It’s been a cold couple of months, weather and otherwise.  I guess I’m hurting again.  It’s more than is explainable.

Nights ago, my dreams transported me home.  I was soaking in the sun and sharing in the laughter of my most favorite souls.

I feel tired. Old. Fragile.  This city has made me harsh.  I still see the pieces of myself that I am proud of.  However, they seem to steadily diminish over time.

The structure is tiresome although I am unquestionably working towards my next move.

But I feel so broken.

I want to lay in someone’s arms under the stars in the middle of nowhere.  I want to stand at the top of a mountain. I want to cuddle with my dog.  I want to laugh with my sisters.  I want to lay near the Pacific Ocean. I want to be free.

Fuck all the rules.  I don’t want to follow any of them.  I want what I want.  I sit back and observe.  I see everyone around me getting what they want.  It feels like they have it all.

I miss affection.  I miss control.  And I miss the part of me that is absent.


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