pain holds hands with introspection, like two small children.

pain cuts down your ability to distract yourself... brain has no choice but to gurgle and splutter to life, and indulge in thought.

you could think about anything I suppose, but I don't. I think about me. It didn't used to be that way, but now it is.

I think about the pain. I think about what the pain is keeping me from. I think about every colour in my life which is a shade or two or a million off where I want it to be.

uni is the splinter I have learned to tolerate.
work is the splinter I have not learned to tolerate.
thus each spawn their own irritating thoughts.

house is my shame.
body is my shame.
I accept these but forget them.

thinking is about realisations, but not conclusions.

I realise that I am in the place I so feared when I knew it was coming. my mother is almost gone but for her body, and I don't... notice anymore.

It feels like the end of a horror movie, where everything has settled and the killer seems dead, but we know he will strike again.

I realise that I should accept that the boy I fell in love with, the one who fell in love with me, isn't really here anymore.

I just get so confused. Because I know he still feels ... something for me. And because I am perpetually blindsighted by thoughts of him at random but oh so frequent intervals. Wishes to suddenly find him in front of me so I can wrap my arms around him, safe. Urges to call him up just to say "you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

But I can't.

I feel crazy, to still feel this way when he doesn't seem to; while everybody's silently pushing me to move on.

But I can't.

You think about "can't"'s more than other things. They itch and they defy and they demand your attention.

Whereas "could"'s manage to blip under the radar. I could clean that up. I could quit my job. I could study for my test tomorrow.

Ahaha, that's right, test tomorrow. I'm going to go and pretend to give that some thought.

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