one more morning.

waking up alone.
I get to go to sleep tomorrow night looking forward to waking up early and going to the airport to get my beautiful boyfriend. Seeing him for the first time in ten days. Kissing him for the first time ten days. Holding his hands. These things that I do every day with him, when unavailable, mean so much. They mean enough as is, but when we're apart, it's like missing out on eating for ten days. It's uncomfortable and I really want to satiate my urges. I want to see him and hold him and cry into his shoulder because things are hard and his shoulder is where I should cry. Things ARE hard lately. The things that make up this photo are hard. The things that make up tomorrow and the next day are hard, and I really don't feel the need to go specific here since things are always hard. For everyone. Of course I write, if I didn't it would be a waste of a perfectly good tortured heart. Has there ever been a writer who was the popular girl, the one who was out every saturday night doing fun things? I think we're all encased by the awkward shell of not really understanding how everyone else does it. Not really getting their THINGS. I know that I wonder about my thoughts, and whether other people wonder about other's thoughts. Does everyone inspect their thighs when they sit on the toilet? Does everyone look at themselves naked in the bathroom mirror before showering? Basically, is my bathroom behavior that of others?

This has gone in weird directions.
Sleep soon, obviously.