Some nights I like it.

Other nights, like tonight, it's too silent. Everything just feels too sterile. And everyone that's anyone to me is sleeping peacefully three hours ahead across the country. They'd wake for me, I know it, but I won't ask them too. I don't want to be a pain. But occasionally it just gets too quiet. It'd be nice to have another body here. Some human contact.

I write all these poems in this silence, in this loneliness, and before I go to sleep I have to scribble 'this is not a suicide note' at the top in case something happens to me and people think my writings are goodbye notes. I always find it a bit morbid when I do it, but it's just a necessary evil when you're a writer who lives alone, battles with depression, and writes sad things.

I need to feel some sort of love right now. Whenever I desire love I try to attract it by sending out a large outpouring of love into the world. Except there's no one exactly physically here for me to do that to. So I'm just kind of sitting here, holding it all in. 

I guess I don't really know what to do with myself. I guess it'd just be nice to be wanted right now. Who knows.

z.




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