890890

I keep worrying about myself.  I should. I’m taking too many pills and I’m trying not to think about Metro. I paused on images that popped into my head, of him; I’m giving myself a break until Monday. I hate sleeping with someone. It’s like you’re okay with  the moment, but then the rest of the day you’re wearing their skin, you know? I don’t want to be wearing his after-shave, his shirts. I don’t want to be watching the awesome music video he likes. This takes time and it takes space, I have art to do. I need to separate. My goal is for him to want me, or for him to miss me. But my goal is to get away from this, back to the suburbs, and to pursue my dream.

It can be a crowded house in my head when I’m at the Depot or at the places that I love. Your emotions get stirred up- from the music, the alcohol, the pills. I thought five years ago that I could settle- if I just would have, things would be different. But then Noah influenced me, and things changed. And then I left him and I started getting okay with flirting, and now it’s like, “Why didn’t this happen fifteen years ago?”. I’m am grateful. It’s just my time I guess. When I’m not on the pills, I’m low-key. I get tired, I get hungry. I care about things in a deeper way. Screw you Noah.

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