i could remember more of that conversation from last night, the exact words. and that i got that cute girls number. and that maybe we should stop going out, and coming home so late that we're still awake when the sun begins to rise. and that i'm going to sleep in my own bed, i can't even remember the last time, it's been at least a week. over a week. and my window bangs a lot. hungover. and tired, such a long, but fun night, not one of those night's where everything's outstanding, but fun enough. oh so long. hdjhsjdhdfsjhjdfs and i know it's cruel to say it, but i doubt you're checking here anyway right now, but i miss you. i'm missing a limb, an essential part of me. and your toothbrush is still in the bathroom, and i got so excited, so excited that you'd be staying here, that we could spend your last summer here together. and now, there's going to be none of that. no pride parade holding your hand, no summerjust hanging out. god, i fucked it up.

today is not being fun, which sucks. something better happen tonight to make it lovely.

i know, i said that we should be apart, have space. i know i know, but right now, all i can think is that i don't want to sleep alone. be here when i sleep? can i stay at yours, maybe? just something. and we're back to those circles. because i start to move on, then i speak to you, and i remember. and there's always that tenderness. the urge to send a goodmorning,goodnight,wishyouwell message. the ache for your skin near mine, to see your smile. you know the song, untouchable face? it's on repeat in my mind. i just would like to spend time with you, just as whatever. i miss you, as a person. it's back to that stage again. please read this. please come play boardgames for a little bit on friday, even if you just hang out here for an hour after school? i'm sorry. i'm so fucking needy. i have no right to be. it's a sign i should sleep.

here is starting to feel like home. stumbling home from work in the morning, to toast and hummus, a bounce on the trampoline. sleep, then just hanging out, in the sun, chips, juice. just househould stuff, like washing, clearing up, i'm about to cook dinner. this place is so lovely, the vibes it has. the windchimes, the age, just it's so relaxed. and jess, jess is amazing. i'm so glad i live here (JAY, your post is underneath this once)

I'd like to invite you over to dinner, cook you something lovely, buy you flowers for the table. But then again, I'm not sure I want to see you. Your way with words, well, it never fails to bring a tear to my eye, but... even though I cried, I didn't feel too sad. It was more frustration, wanting. It's hard to explain, eloquence has never been my strongest point. And now, I start talking to you, and you say to 'do what's best for me' and that just makes me feel selfish. And maybe the best thing isn't to leave you alone? Maybe it's to write you poems, put a ring on your finger. That could be the best thing for me. Then what? I cannot stand the thought of you hurting, reading of you alone, in tears in that massive bed, it's horrible. It brings back those nights where we'd spend all night talking rehashing the past. Over and fucking over. I don't understand, can't we leave this shit where it belongs? I understand that you don't want a relationship, and I can't say that I do right now either. It was too intense before. But there is love, so much, too much. I swear I've written these words to you a thousand times before. We're still going in circles. I'm sick of circles, come over for dinner sometime?