She sits up at night doing what??

I guess I'm trying to express the shock of not being in love. It's as if the heart must feel nothing to stop the pain of being alone, to build every emotion up from the ground all over again. Any way, it's a work in progress. The tone is a little off, I don't sound right.

Now we are not together

I feel the bleeding subside

And the pool in my heart congeals at last,

But now there is nothing.

It does not beat.

When I gave you half

You took it up in your arms and

Carefully placed in with yours.

But now we are not together.

You know me. I took a knife

and hacked away at it,

I sawed it in two and it gushed.

Not pretty.

And it hurt. All for you.

We are so far apart

That I feel nothing.

Now that we are

You

And I,

Waiting for someone

To make it beat.

The worst thing about not being single

It isn't that I miss sleeping with a hundred men, or running my hands over someone else's breasts (although it is a lovely feeling), nor is it the "independence" of being a free spirit. The worst thing about not being single is the unfillable late hours spend tossing and turning in an ocean of bed, knowing it should have warmth. There should be a bolster that snores and farts, scratches and pokes and takes up all the sheets in their arms. Something to snuggle against, and the reason you will only ever sleep on your half of the bed. You wake up cuddling a pile of pillows that doesn't even smell the same. I get nightmares. I hate waking up and crying. It's pathetic. But, I still need a hug afterwards. Yeah, I can go weeks apart in the daytime, despite having nothing to do. But not nights. Never nights.

I sat down and drank a cup of hot chocolate today, to get rid of my hangover. It was silky and delicious, perfecting my moment of being alone. I didn't care about the calories :) It was just nice to be by myself, peaceful and content as it washed away the nausea.

Sometimes, it's late and I miss the interlinking of our fingers.I lie in all the wrong positions and the bed needs you more than I do.

Haiku

I felt your heart beating against my cheek as I lay across you at five A.M, listening to the rain and feeling safe, enjoying the little blossom of moments before the storm returned, and the rain drowned out your heartbeat once again.

Haiku for you, haiku for me.

Behind your eyelids,

A silent war wages

That I cannot fight.

I don't like my coffee like my men.

Today I woke up feeling hungry for the first time in weeks. I missed it :)

I wish I was a guy. It's not fitting for a woman to spoil her man on Valentines day, is it? I guess breaking convention can't hurt, and besides, what am I to do with money if not spend it? My conveying of emotions is somewhat stunted, you see. Unless I've had a few too many or a little white powder... Life would be much easier if I could just type an emoticon and not use my big words.

Where is my shame, when all this is done?

The song that cannot be sung by these

lips, but forced. And echoing the sound

that works into the tremors of the

ground. The last dark day,

October dust, no shame in nature

So you say.

What is my name when

all this is done?

You cannot recall a better

day or time between the lines

of cherry trees,

That now in blossom gleam,

Infectious,

Ruthless in your disease

that filled their petals one by one,

No shame

When all this is done.

:/

It's hard to get away from guilt. It permeates every pore, seeps into every weeping wound and sore so that you can't escape it. You wake up feeling guilty for sleeping late, and guilt as you eat. After you have finished you try to erase your mistake and feel worse still for failing to meet impossible standards. None of your clothes fit, and you try to ignore this but sooner or later everyone notices that those grey trousers have to be washed. They don't ask questions, there's no point. You spend so much fucking time alone that you can contemplate your guilt for hours or days uninterrupted and it builds, driving you in circles, cycles of repetition you'd break if only... There is no reason. You start to obsess. You build fantastical days that are just lies, your dreams. Perfection. And someone has to fucking burst your bubble or you'll float away and forget all the guilt you had back on earth. No, much better to be here in the now.

-_-

I think, for possibly the first time in forever, I don't actually want to be depressed. At all. I'm genuinely uncomfortable feeling like this, and have perhaps inadvertently taken "the first step" by not resigning myself to it. Well, whatever. It should make for an interesting discussion with the doctor tomorrow ^_^

Still... fuck me I feel awful.

It feels so strange having a room, a bed to myself. It's not that I don't like it, and in a lot of respects it's really not that different. Especially considering its previous inhabitant. I just want some social interaction. Or something. I don't know.

I'll do anything. To please anyone.

Who can distract me.

For a few hours.

But it's enabling me

To get

very

aggitated

with

you

stupid

people

who

make

me

feel

worse