Tuesday

| 2019 | 04 | 16 | paper crackles, logs burn |

our window is now open for the forseeable future.

that makes it sound as if it is broken - actually i more mean... it's warm enough.

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2 > women don't get attached but i can assure you i've imagined a wedding with almost every one of my crushes. some of them are pretty damn perfect.

she smells like lemongrass and sleep.  my favourite line of a song i listen to. it drips deliciously off the tongue and embodies what i want to be.

i want to be asleep. and smell of it.

she tastes like apple juice and peach.

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I feel like this week i'm being torn into small pieces again. it's not bad to critically assess the person you've become and seek areas to improve... but. at the same time it's hard to be laid so bare.

i don't mind it.

i just wish i chose a better time to do it.

rather than 5 days before an endurance race.

i can't seem to accept the person i am and instead just see the worst. i find it easier to assume i'll fail.

i'm also finding that the more i do this, the bigger the tears but also the better I'm becoming as a person.

progression is hard.

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so my new problem.


i'm really bad at sharing.

i don't really think anyone in this world should have to keep things hidden. we shouldn't feel ashamed of the lego blocks of our lives that have categorically, undeniably happened.

the bits of me that make me, well me, i keep under lock and key.

but then i realise why.

why i've built a wall so thick around myself that it's unlikely even i have the ability to tear it down to let someone in.

subtle reminders
there was a time i showed you my favourite spots and then. they weren't mine anymore they became ours.

all of a sudden you took them and gave them to someone else.

this is the thing about the internet.

it leaves a footprint and no matter how hard or far i run there's always a reminder and i can always trace things back. sometimes, it catches me by surprise because i always saved photos in weird locations and whilst i pressed delete the map of empty marks how full it all was.

i don't want to know you were there.

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i got drunk that time and a few of us stood at the top of my hill, the wind pushing my jacket open. i was livid. i stood on my bench and i told everyone it was mine and they laughed, but for me it was important.

just like my chopping boards.

but being back there meant that i realised how much time had passed and how much I had changed.

god i was a mess. a tangle of me and you and the memories we shared. everything i owned had been touched by you in some way - my favourite lipstick on your collar or my hoody being worn in the morning.

but slowly i resented you making my world a graveyard and i started to build new memories and moments.

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i take my time because i fall head over heels and bang my head on the floor and i can't save my heart from the wreckage and i feel guilty for the pain it's been through.

i keep my favourite things under lock and key too so they're always mine and never someone else's cause if you share then they can take.

i don't let people too far in so when they leave they aren't taking too much away. i tell people the same stories so they don't have anything of mine that no one else has.





sometimes i fall so deeply in love with the story i forget to look at the person standing in front of me and i fall for words not actions. but i see now, that sometimes, my story is enough.



i'm taking my time because i'm impulsive and sometimes i jump right in instead of watching. i'm listening and observing. and soon it will be okay.