wanted to hold his hand

I’m tired right now, uplifted a ridiculous amount and humming to pop music. Slightly out of place, but no matter. Spent an aimless evening with Alistair sketching pieces of our lives for eachother. In the car, go left, now north. Top ten in the charts of “we are young and we have nothing to do”. Went to Lynn Valley, but not to the bridge, went to the shore, but didn’t climb the Q. Instead we stood by the water. Perhaps water is calming a little because as a species we tend to stare out over it. Depending on the conversation, it helps to have a skyline on the other end. Something definite twinkling on the other side of that black rolling eternity. There’s a gap in the bars, wide enough to slip through without effort. I turn and take bars in each hand, pick one foot up and lean out. Insane moment I used to fight every time I stood there. That final splash would be cold like ice never will be. As a non-sequiter, he pegged me right damn and center. “You hold people close and far away all at the same time” Took him a week. In a quiet peaceful way I’m impressed. More so as he isn’t bothered anymore.

I’m not speaking very well. Little food and little sleep make for a dulled girl. I don’t know why I write as much as I do, I only know it’s something I do. Take away my books but don’t take away my pen. What would there be left to do then? I apologize that your friends lists are so flooded with nothing in particular.

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