My lips are the same color as my skin and my hair feels like dry twigs. I feel like if I write down my moodiness in small letters, I could feel more connected to it. Plus I haven't written in a very long time.
Today was a bright gray day. I don't understand how I feel about this fluctuating weather and how its affecting my perception of things and situations around me. All I know is that its mid-April and the sun is not shining in its normal consistency. Also, I think if I tried really hard, I still could not be too monotone all the time. I would have to throw on a splash of red from time to time, I love too much, what exactly, I know not.But I never go around looking for comforts of home. What is home, but a building where certain people live who you are obligated to love.
I have this recurring dream where I have a dress made out of the sea. It is blue and cold and silky, with big holes for arms. It helps me fold you into an embrace and I thank invisible gods for sending you to me. It is poignant and terrible all at once, but at least you're with me.
My final destination.