the morning after last night

"i wish i'd known soonerthat when you said you loved me, you meant this"

i am really small. i feel really small today. i think i could fit in the tiniest of spaces without any trouble at all. i could fold up and be invisible. i can barely see me.

there's no coffee in this house. there's no one to get coffee. there's me and there's blackberry tea and wrappers in the floor and there's a tv and it's on and there are people laughing in other rooms and in other places entirely and i think someone is hiding and someone else is counting and there's anticipation it's thick you can feel it from here.

this stereo is a thunderstorm. i just remembered driving down PCH that weekend and the surf contest and the red light and the sky and the calm of knowing that i was where i wanted to be that i'd decided to be somewhere and then i was there one two three.

but anyway there's no coffee and there's no one to get any. i'll make toast and you'll still be you. you will still be you. i don't know how to feel like this. i don't know how to move these arms or talk with this mouth.


"you could [redacted] and just not tell anyone about it."

it made me sad to hear that. it makes me sad to remember it. the practicality and foresight is staggering. it's unsettling.