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.