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(no subject)
So much happens and I don't write it down
and then it disappears
And then nothing happens and I have this urge to write it down
but it bores me silly
So I'm reading
and sometimes writing
but nothing important
and not the stuff about how I'm scared silly of being exhausted
or how my loved ones can't stay well
and how I'm terrified they will die
or how I feel guilty for feeling
so much day-to-day
joy.
and then it disappears
And then nothing happens and I have this urge to write it down
but it bores me silly
So I'm reading
and sometimes writing
but nothing important
and not the stuff about how I'm scared silly of being exhausted
or how my loved ones can't stay well
and how I'm terrified they will die
or how I feel guilty for feeling
so much day-to-day
joy.
no subject
ouch.
and I love how your joy grows up out of the ground like a hearty weed.
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