I've never been one to much like goodbyes.
Today I saw two of my best friends for,
what will most likely be,
the last time outside of work.
We didn't speak of missing one another
we simply continued existing, the three of us.
I've said more goodbyes than I care to.
To people whom I've loved deeply.
My comfortable life is shattering.
I'm leaving my heart in Frederick
While I run to San Diego
I don't know what to do.
I don't want to say goodbye to you.
I don't want to say goodbye to you
I want to stay home, in bed,
and
talk about the things we disagree about
I want to stay home, in bed,
And
Call out of work to cuddle
I want to stay home, in bed.
I want to keep calling this dead end city home.

It's bittersweet,
Visiting all the places that make this small town my home.
The sushi place I went with coworkers every Monday.
The parking deck that I lost my virginity in.
The creek I swore to myself I'd one day jump over.
Baker park, where I first did all the flips I know.
It's bittersweet knowing that in a few weeks I'll no longer be here to watch my home town grow.
It's bittersweet
Bittersweet.
Bittersweet.

Advice is cheap
It comes out so smoothly
easier than compliments
which I could give more freely
Honestly I'd rather listen
and watch our faces tumble down together
as you speak of all the tender places
Life has found to pinch you
But there are no eyes to see upon this black and white screen
and supporting arms must be constructed
out of paper thin words
so flighty in their meaning
which fall apart like card pyramids
at one breath of misunderstanding
My profile is no weighty substitute for
the eternalness of audible sighs of a friend
But I want you to know that I heard you

come
I invite you
study me
I want you
embrace the wonder
I will show you
the snowflake of my soul

I'm getting to the point where "lost" isn't even close to enough to explain where I am mentally. I know what I need and from now on I have to listen to my head over my heart. More often then not I find myself pacing and I remember how much my ex-fiancées mom hated when I paced or how much it stresses me out. I need to escape. I need an escape from my head and writing seems like it's going to stab me in the hand. My random bursting into tears are happening more often. No one seems to care. Who am I ******* kidding. No one knows. Anyone I feel like I can tell, I can't.  I wish I could stay in my small town. Lead my feet with my chest and walk casually through life. But leading with my head is speeding **** up so ******* much. I had my first really bad panic attack in almost a year at the airport on my way home. I'm not okay because nothing stays the same. My head is an abusive dog owner and my heart is a puppy that can't keep up on the walk. I can't breathe. I'm freaking out again. I'm ignorant and naive.