self-pity.

i think i'd rather have a job than be going to school. i wouldn't have to bring work home with me.

i can't do the things i want to, and i won't do the things i need to. it's an awful place to be, and i know i've put myself here.

how to be avoidant

don't look at the clock. don't look at your suitcase. don't look at the files and whatever may be in them. sit on your bed and think about willows and the man you'll see tomorrow and pray he'll take you away and that would be alright.

every morning i wake up
fingers and wrists wrapped in
the corners of my sheets
thinking they're my dreams
and maybe if i hold tight enough
they'll pull me somewhere

maybe it'd be crazy to follow you; maybe it's crazy even to think it. but possibilities intrigue me- the more unlikely they seem the more i'm bound to pursue them out of nature, the more i muse about them till they take a more decisive direction. i can't say i love you, though i'd dare to say i could. we hardly know each other, have hardly begun, but what you've given already cannot be undone. soon we'll both be leaving this common ground; i guess then we'll find if time and distance are simple states of mind. either way, i'd like you to know i'll be thinking about you. i'll tell you that someday, maybe. or maybe that'd be crazy.