I've just crawled into my stomach and already I've grown tired of it. I can find no meshy opening thought to begin to search my way out of here.

I just got here. I'm all ready to go.

I didn't want to come here in the first place.

I expect too much from myself.

Emotional cycles have been figured out because they exist in patterns in human behavior. Two legs, two eyes, upright and concious. Speaking, burbling, crying and alive. I'm human.

And this is bullshit.

I have discovered the neccessary appreciation for two month relationships that wake up like sheep and exit like lions. Time has never been such a precious commodity. Two months stretch and roll until they cover miles. In two months, an unsuspecting peasant learns to live in the clouds. Every day stacks up higher and higher like a staircase of building blocks until distances may be closer than they appear. But clouds have no walls and eventually you reach the bottom and look and realise: never has two months been so massive.

Normally two months pass before I have a chance to ask it to slow down.

And now...

Things started to sink in-- what had actually happened, what was going to happen, and of course, the many possibilities that lay in "what could happen". This is when my stomach began to produce its seducing toxin causing it to look particularily inviting. So I took the hint and crawled into the spongy deep. The skies cracked open and rarely have I ever seen such a storm. No eye, no break, just a constant stream.

Oddly enough, the only pacifier that has seemed to work is a news program that for some reason begins somewhere around 3am. Concerning myself with repeating stories of the triumphs and problems of other people and badly acted commercials for medical malpractice lawyers has quelled my girlish trickling.

Crawling into yourself is madness and while I am human and predictable, I am myself and I understand the balance between nature and chaos.

I don't want to feel the sting of the keys on my fingers three hours after I dialed and pleaded and couldn't win. I told myself tonight that if this was a game, I was was suffering severely. That it wasn't possible for this hand to be over yet.

It couldn't be.
I wouldn't let it.

And I was the one who left.
I was the one who didn't just let it go.

And I was the one who didn't care if I was being stupid.
I was the one who forgave him.

And I was the one who didn't want this.
But I was the one who fell in love.