Finally.
It's taken me a few days to manage - attempt, actually, because I'll never manage to do something as impossible as organizing my thoughts, but that's besides the point.
It's taken me a few days to attempt to manage my thoughts. I haven't had much time between the bouts of frenzied, sporadic packing (and by packing I mean the shoving of articles of clothing and precious items into a large bag haphazardly) and the nervous, desperate search for a new domicile to actually sit down and make a half-decent update - it doesn't help that I've begun to ache and bruise in the oddest of places; all the endless, violent bursts of coughing garnering me stares of a curious but ultimately unhelpful nature. The dreams are easier (and I use the term lightly) to bear, but that doesn't stop me from waking up and sobbing into my hands when I realize I'm not dead yet, and there's a mess that needs to be cleaned up between my legs.
But...
I think I've found a place. I'm risking it, jinxing it even by writing about it in the open; but I think this is a good move. This is a very good move. I haven't seen Him all day (I haven't seen even a whisper of Him in two days, actually. I wonder if I should be worried by this, or if I should just enjoy it. Maybe He's grown tired of me? Found me trite and boring?), and aside from the knee-jerk doe-eyed look I get whenever I cross a window or leave the light, everything's... Everything's been alright.
I wonder if this is a good thing.
We'll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment