It's late and I should be sleeping but my restless mind never can cooperate
with the fatigue that swells my body and this screen is just too bright
that it hurts even when I close my eyes and I can't help it

that sometimes I think of them
him,
them.
Sometimes I can't help it.

I stumble over my own words because my mind thinks faster than
my mouth speaks and I'll mention something about my past and those
who have once occupied it and I'll feel instant regret for making you
feel as if you're not important; insignificant.

Maybe you don't believe me when I say you're the best thing that
ever happened to me because you can't imagine that to be true,
though it is. I'm sorry if I don't show it.

It's nearly 1 am and that's pretty early in the night for me
I guess 3 and 4 o'clock have become overrated.

There are a lot of things I wish I could tell you but honestly when I'm with
you is the only time I feel whole and feel safe feel like nothing had ever been wrong;

the second I or you leave is the second the flood gates open and my mind becomes one big swirling mass of thought and word and chaos and please
please
please,

don't feel obligated to spend more time with me for that reason I just want you to know you are my cure because I'm sick and darling I've given up on specifics and just settled for crazy and who knows what it could be or what type or how I could get better.

It's like a scalding bath that turns lukewarm over time and you know you'd like to change the water but it just becomes so...comfortable.

I'm not saying it's nice or fun or preferred but it's familiar and humans are creatures of habit and I have no clue how I'd even begin to change I've just gotten so used to dealing with it on my own and finding ways to numb my head and slow down time and giving myself space and room to breathe.

Maybe there are two versions of me. Maybe there are several.
Maybe I am one continuous person with ever-changing moods.
Maybe I am always the same person with the same kinds of thoughts though I only realize it occasionally.

maybe
maybe
maybe.

Maybe one day I'll be rich and won't have to worry about financing my dreams or my future or giving back to my family.
Maybe we'll continue to fall endlessly in love and we'll make something of ourselves and life will cease to be difficult or unfair.
Maybe I'll live to one-hundred

maybe
maybe
maybe.

I know this is just a bunch of jumbled thoughts thrown together but I guess that means I'm reflecting well.

I wish you could see the things I write because that's more me than I could ever explain to anyone but the only eyes lain upon anything personal I put out belong to strangers because they don't know me enough to throw it back in my face or hold it over me.

Mostly it would just be resulting shame;
Ashamed of who I am, the things I've done and can't take back, time I've wasted, words I've said, thoughts I've thought.
Wants I've wanted.

Ashamed that this person will never meet my expectations or hopes and will forever be some half-hearted empty shell only here to exist but never living.

Someone who had potential but scorned and wasted it.

my eyelids are getting heavy
I wonder if you're feeling better
I hope I'm not smothering you
I wonder if you ever have thoughts

my kind of thoughts