i suspect im sposed to writing something amazing right now.

something about the damn moon and the damn death i go through every damn time i picture your hands moving down the steering wheel.

something about the way the bathroom smelled after each one of your showers... how the first time you took a shower in my bathroom and i went in, after, how the smell knocked me around.

but no.

i cant write about that.

i cant write.

if i do, i just hurt more. i hurt and i get confused as hell.

i cant tell the friend to stop talking to you about me.

i cant get pissed at anyone because, yeah, that's just not crayon.

crayon cant do that.

crayon cant hurt anyone.

fuck me feeling like i dont have the right to become really egotistical one moment.

just one damn moment.

take a damn moment and look at me, kid, and look. look at the way i hesitate and withdraw when you talk about this or that.

watch the way my damn eyes water, please.

i long for this and that.

but dammit.

i feel all these expectations around me.

i must be crayon, i must be that nice kid who listens, i must be on time at work, i must leave those jobs and find a respectable one. i must must must must must.

damn.

you know what i want to do, though?

i want to just be.

i want you, god yes, but i want you as a friend even more.

and i want...

i want that body next to me at night.

that body that i get so comfortable around i can sing to in the car. that body that understands i need time and space to work my problems out, and its no insult to you.

that body i dont feel like i must entertain.

there're people around me. but i feel alone.

am i sad? no.

am i happy? nah.

im just... moving along.