11212021

2230 I never know what I’m about to write. I write whatever comes to mind. I write because I can, because I should, because what else is there to do when you’re alone?

Sometimes, I draw. But usually, I write. Sometimes, I solve the Rubik’s cube. Sometimes, I watch a show, or read, or call a friend. But in the end, I always have to write.

“They always were. And they will always be,” she says to me. She doesn’t know she’s all there is to me.

Sometimes a half-a-sentence says it all.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s