not fighting

I was lying in bed and thinking of you.
That’s a lie. I was sitting behind the fence outside your house, watching you through the kitchen window. It’s okay. I’d be scared too.

You woke up the next morning alone, you woke up the next morning with Shakespeare all over your body, written in sharpie. That does not make this okay.

I drove from one side of town to the other before most people would be awake. I drove past your house and I did not look in the windows in the same way I didn’t think about what you were thinking about. Maybe you weren’t awake.

We are not fighting because that requires a mutual anger. You’re not answering my calls and I’m not angry. You used to say we worked so well together – that’s why you were always bumping your head in the shower, always so clumsy. Yeah, we worked out fantastically.

I think we were trying to sabotage this from the beginning. I think a lot and I think it’s not good for me. I was lying in bed and thinking of you. It’s ok. I’d be scared too.

it should probably worry me that people read this (Hi, mom!)

"Do you understand Mr. Meow?"

"...do I want to?"

Textbooks crack me up.