I don’t know if its the timing or the distance between us and the moon… hell, it could even be the chemicals and just the way everything adds up to this current moment…
but its like somethings not right and theres less logic to this thing called life.
Somedays I’m scared I’ll die alone, and most days I accept that I will. But other days I crave a partner and a promise locking us together and children made from our DNA.
And then I curse the idea, because damn tradition and damn habits and damn human nature. I’m not alive to follow patterns. I don’t want to live predictably and I don’t want to fall apart like everyone expects and I don’t want to die by my own hand, but how do people make it so far? How does everybody feel okay being so alone? We are cages and we are planets and there is so much space between us.
There is space between each action and stopping to think about that space between where I move from the bed to the kitchen is agonizing.
Time is running out, though it will always be there like Vonnegut promised.
It’s just that.. I haven’t decided if I want to grow old or die young yet. And maybe I’ll want a family and take a gamble at marriage, but I’m just not too sure.
I get the feeling the answers will find me before I find them… but…
so much time. So much wondering in the in-between. It’s really quite amazing. It’s really quite unbearable. I just want to relax and take it all in, but everything inside me is trembling beneath my skin.