I’ve been away. I came back to a dirty house more than half empty with dead bugs and crumbs all over the floor. There was this strange color, desolate and quiet, plastered all over the place. Pinched my throat tight, settled inside of me like smooth cold steel. Et merde, it’s over, I’m packing out of this place in less than three weeks and the couch is already gone and there’s no more cat to greet me in the morning. And someone stole my coffee. I woke up and rode to this cafe, this home of ours, on the softest morning breeze. Everything feels so achingly peaceful. I wish I could crawl up in this coffee mug and take turns being the bitter and the sweet. I wish I were the striped curtains watching people passing by, listening to the window seat conversations and the soft breathing of people reading in silence. I’d learn so much more. Oh and this stupid lovely song, which makes me miss so much and so many, and my eyes brimming with tears for no other reason than longing, don’t ask me which one. And my heart pounding like a mad horse it’s catching my breath, I wish I knew something, anything, about this goddam life and how to love and do at least one thing right. I’d feel emo saying that but no one reads this anyway. I can’t stop thinking, feeling, riding my imagination as far as I can and coming back exhausted and sometimes hurt. My happiness, if that’s what it’s called, has more depth and colors than it ever had, but God, I need to shut the hell up.
I miss them all like hell.