There's always questions. First it's always 'why?' that's when you're still not over the denial, and the unfairness sinks in. Next it's blame (I spy with my little eye...)
I can take you through the processes of the human psyche. Or I can tell you how I deal with it. I'd rather the latter. I make no secret of how selfish and unfeeling I am. It's disgusting really.

This is not a safe space, and I have nailed my heart to the back of that boat and it has set to sea. I want it to rot away.

I have to abandon writing as though I possess a monopoly on the universal truth. I do not. I will leave collective conscience for another time and story. Universality only works for so long, and for so many ears.
New Creative Outlook 101. Bring back the self. I am self-centered again.

O what have you done?

HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME

I want to get high. Just so I can hold down my body from getting up and swaying every time you open your mouth to sing, or every time you pluck your signature chord. you are my counterpart. I've heard your voice before, a hundred times over, and I'd hear it a thousand times more. I freeze up when realisation hits me. What's mine is yours what's yours is mine. My voice wavers when I'm emotional and I can't sing when I'm lying down. I'll show you mine if there was any remote possibility you'd show me yours.

I like compartmentalising my thoughts in chaos situations (this is not the time, as in not this time, that is, not right now). But I go to the blank white room in my head, and shut the door behind me. My thoughts run pell-mell into each other on another plane on loop (when the floors of memory and rational thought dissolve). I think I'm trying too hard again, and I'm thinking too much

Fuck you.