I feel like I don't have much to say, but I still want to say something. And as it always goes... the second I claim to have nothing to say, something to say always comes along. Tonight I'm just happy and content though, and that makes for very boring posts. It's hard to explain this satisfaction, and it's strange how it's always easier to write about the shitty days. The thirst and hunger for peace and happiness but once that comes... I draw up blanks. My mouth is open but the words won't fall from these lips. My fingers move on the board but I hardly get anywhere. So in search for something to write about I find something wrong, a piece missing from the puzzle, something to say, even if it's just say. I find the things I want. Things I play with, in my mind and dreams, but that reality doesn't grasp. I find you. You leaving. You changing. You dying. All the different yous. You who were once my best friend, my brother, my secret aching in my chest. Each and every one of you. I think of you all often. You're a part of me daily. Sometimes I wonder if I ever cross your minds. If what I experienced was real or just an attempt at closeness on both parts. You're in my tears and the things I fear most. You are my smile and all the butterflies fluttering inside me. You're everything that pains me to the core. But still you are loved and you don't even know it. I find it incredibly pathetic of myself to feel so strongly for all of you who made it look so easy to walk away. Nonetheless I am comfortable in these shoes, however mislead they may be. I wake every day to thoughts of at least one of you and I still smile. I smile and go on with my day. In hopes of finding the next you that makes it all just a little more bearable.