Maybe this is a strange way to say
Sep. 3rd, 2004 08:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sihayadesignsI feel like I'm waiting for a shoe to drop. I'm trying to divorce myself from my emotions. I am. It's so so hard. I am trying.
Then things like The Luckiest, by Ben Folds, pop up on my playlist and I'm crying quietly in my seat.
I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you
It's hard. I am trying. I am thinking. I am raw and open.
Then I look at my right hand, and the photo on my nightstand, and the rainbow sprinkles on the bookshelf. My rumpled bed and half-empty bottles of massage oil. Every song on the radio feels like a song I've sung.
And where was I before the day that I first saw your lovely face?
I have to fight for this. I can't not. This is what I want. It's frightening, but it's crystalline. I am stone cold sober. I am frightened, but I am calm.
My friends are amazing. Thank you, Heather and Rac, for the hugs. Thank you, Aster, for the sorbet and the talking. Thank you, Mark, for the flowers. Thank you, Anna, for talking me sane again. Thank you if you wrote to me. I'll be fine, and I'll get through this. I just want to get through this as an "us." There's too much to walk away from, I can't do it, and I don't want to. Monday seems a lifetime away.
Then things like The Luckiest, by Ben Folds, pop up on my playlist and I'm crying quietly in my seat.
I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you
It's hard. I am trying. I am thinking. I am raw and open.
Then I look at my right hand, and the photo on my nightstand, and the rainbow sprinkles on the bookshelf. My rumpled bed and half-empty bottles of massage oil. Every song on the radio feels like a song I've sung.
And where was I before the day that I first saw your lovely face?
I have to fight for this. I can't not. This is what I want. It's frightening, but it's crystalline. I am stone cold sober. I am frightened, but I am calm.
My friends are amazing. Thank you, Heather and Rac, for the hugs. Thank you, Aster, for the sorbet and the talking. Thank you, Mark, for the flowers. Thank you, Anna, for talking me sane again. Thank you if you wrote to me. I'll be fine, and I'll get through this. I just want to get through this as an "us." There's too much to walk away from, I can't do it, and I don't want to. Monday seems a lifetime away.
