i get homesick in february. always in february i would watch the sky turn golden around two o'clock in the afternoon, striking blue notes on the snow. i don't know what to do with myself. i'm restless. i'm pensive. i'm aloof. my teeth itch. homesick is not flattering.
grey.
there are certain subjects i've never been good at broaching. none of them are particularly calculated to cause problems, but they seem to anyway. exhibit a: a friend and i are reconciling. we still haven't touched on what made us part ways in the first place. i'm not sure there's a right time for that sort of thing. who knows? maybe it's not even needed.
i feel malformed and leprous when i think about the parts of me i've had to leave behind. there are things i want to tell people and can't ever tell them. they're no longer within my social or emotional radius. i don't know how to mourn these things properly. i store them in my boxes and bags and set them on a shelf in the closet. they never leave.