DISCLAIMER: There will be no clever moral or any snide play on words. This is not the time for play, so if your eyes are telling your bones to jump, by all means, jump.
Twenty-six: my day starts
Eighteen: my shoulder is a towel
Twelve: a new ally approaches
Six: worriment follows
One: it is no dance, but a state of being
FLASH FLASH FLASH SPIN SPIN SPIN
I do not move physically or emotionally, and I wonder if I am broken. I am certain many people "feel" like this all the time for countless reasons, but that does not discount my moment as something real. I am not looking for a reason anymore. I do not need an explanation. I do not need purpose. I do not need anything, really. Your sight and sound are enough, and if I was not so far away, I wish your touch was with me, too. Funny. I have not wished for anything in a long while. Maybe I should edit: I do not feel like I need anything, because I do not know what is needed? Feeling is an incapability at the moment, but even from an outside perspective, I do not know where to go from here. I do not know how I am supposed to be. Am I supposed to call someone? I tried, but she is not here. I do not know if she even watches this show anymore. Calling was unfair, and I think I did it purposefully, knowing there would be no answer on the other line.
ASIDE: How appropriate in correlation to "your [enticing utterance] instructed by your movements."
My belly feels funny, but it might be from the copious amount of ice cream I had before I went to bed, or maybe from the sleep I refuse to accept. I should just confide in Jack. Whether to help me sleep or show me how I truly am beneath this rocky exterior, he usually helps. This is too long, and too vague.
I have become a fruit-bearing tree. I look magnificent from afar. My goods are easily accessible. My taste is delectable. Still, be warned: if you eat from me, you will be scorned, and your mouth will never be the same again.
this blog will continue, but some of you will not...
- Alexander McCurdy