I am at a loss for what to do.
I thought that I had all my answers. I had every fibre and filament inplace, ready to be built upon, ready to be rested and laid upon. But now that they have dissolved, broken into nothing, I find that I am very much without a place to sit. Without a place to breathe or relax or settle down and rest my tired, tired head.
I'm going home soon. Which fills me with a dread and a comfort that I cannot explain. There was never a debate about if it would be difficult. The only question that remains is how difficult it will be.
savemesavemesavemesavemesaveme.
the kitchen walls recieve my sigh.
I don't know what to say to anyone. I have nothing to say . There is nothing to say or to do or to make or to feel. I don't have anything to say to my parents, or to my best friend, or to my grandparents, other than how much I want to see them. I have so much to do. Italy, Rome, going home, parties, NYC, college, college college. And I should be happy. I should be excited about my future, just like everyone else is. But all the looking forward I have to do is destroying me . All I want to do is crawl into bed( I'm not even sure which...) and listen to my iPod and cry and cry and cry until my cheeks are raw with salt and whatever else is in tears, and until my chest is tight and my eyes are burning and my head is throbbing. Then I will sleep, and wake up, and find everything how I've left it. Whatever my everything is.
I comfort myself with the knowledge that affection is only a habit.
I want everything and nothing. I believe in everything in nothing. I am everything, and nothing.
