weak willed, i listen to the collision of manic thoughts that resurface like a neverending disease whenever you are mentioned.*
blue..*
the whirl of memorys start, and in the mass hysteria of mental chaos i feel my fingers slip over the keys to write to you. of what is not important. simply a few meaningless words will set me up above the clouds in a serene distant state. the promise of that momentary bliss is enough to keep my reasonable side hidden away... she'll come out later, and when she comes so will the negative ideas. the "why did i say thats", and "what is he thinkings" all of which will riot through the clouds ripping them apart until i fall and smash back into newly cold reality.
of course by then the conversation will have ended and i wont know what you think of the crazed words i somehow managed to smash into thoughts that sounded like sentences at the time, but now look like the disasterous scribbled rought draft of a 5th grade report over an unknown topic.
so with the last of my resolve i hold down the backspace key until all of the mangled writing is gone. you of course have no knowledge of this inner turmoil because i never hit enter.. i tell myself thats for the best but im not sure if i believe that, then again if you lie to yourself long enough you can believe anything. so why not, it's only survival..