Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.


It’s not so much that I wish I was depressed, I just wish I had the right to be but then wasn’t.

Maybe all I want is to have someone to keep me company at night. Then when I’m stuck lying awake in the dark I can wonder what she’s dreaming about as her soft rhythmic breathing soothes me back into slumber. And in the day I can smile and love her and we can share our worlds and be happy.

Lately my want for this has been crippling. But that’s not what wanting does. Wanting makes you motivated; wanting leads you into a determined pursuit. It’s needing something and not getting it that slows you down.

Do I really need this? Am I really that weak and impatient? Or am I just paranoid of dying without it?

I always thought I was better than that, honestly.


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