spacebug

But I don't have those words.

You have more lovely ones than I do, most of the time.

I have songs in my head that I'm scared to let out-they mingle with other timelines and whatifs that I try not to let distract me from the fact that I'm strangely satisfied with my life most of the time these days. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes I remember that bond that only lonely hearts share, and wish I shared it again. I have an open couch, a "no, really, call at 2,3,4am if you want/need to" policy that I'm pretty sure goes unused even on the need side of that spectrum, a healthy (I hope) dollop of righteous indignation tempered with self-doubt, a desire to be a good friend, a plane ticket. I'm doin' okay, I only hope my second selves, my scattered soul bits in all their incarnations are too. Sometimes I feel like if we've healed at all by now, it's setting crooked.

Maybe that's a dumb metaphor.