5.11.22

Walking through the intersection with tears in my eyes. All around me: shops, cars, bikes, radios blasting. In the changing room of the thrift shop I try on different versions of my life. Through the speakers, someone sings: it's not hard to love you, it's like breathing. Later, somewhere down the street: to die by your side...and then from the apartment upstairs and you know, for you, i'd bleed myself dry for you.. 

The songs; they're so honest. Who gave them such permission? It's true: I miss you, I want you, I curse you, I dream of you, I'd die for you, I'd kill you, I've forgotten your face and your name but the memory of you remains. I want you forever and ever and I'm talking to myself. 

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Last night, I kept getting out of bed to see if the cheesecake I had taken out of the oven was cool enough to be put away. I didn't want the glass pan I'd baked the cake in to shatter during the transition. Finally, around 3 AM, the glass was cool to the touch so I moved it to the fridge.

I was trying to be careful this time, you see.
In the past, much less has broken much more.