clean_sheets twenty-three is drinking and doesnt fucking write You will come like a familiar retelling, so sweet so sordid in your newness and familiarity. I've been here before, you have not. Warm in just the right places. We will run away together by which, I mean, You will run away to me and I will hold you and tell only nice things into the crook of someplace secret on your body. You will pretend to forget the sadness. I was good at that, too. You are me are me are me are me 5 years ago. will be will be will be, I will make it so. 100311 ... does it ease the pain? My sheets bear the hallmark of the single-girl: one small area darkened with cat fur; the area where I lay, reading, typing, writing, smeared with ink from blotting pens; and tiny fragments of melted chocolate specks. I love these sheets and the way they wrap my own life around me. They are changed infrequently (this being the hallmark of a busy and thoroughly lived life), usually in anticipation of a possibility that does not pan out. But nevermind, disappointment is not really the scene here, but revelling in being able to enjoy the blots and the choc as I slip myself between the unchanged sheets again the next night. 100315 ... does it ease the pain? These days my sheets are being changed too often in anticipation of a searing disappointment. When will I ever learn? 110327 ... xadle A fresh piece of paper- clean, white, and crisp. Everything is perfect. Everything is clear. Clean, expansive. My heart sings when people ask me how it's going. It's going so well. I've worked so hard and I've been so lucky. But one night I began searching. I don't even know why. Was the joy too much to bear? Did I want to ruin something beautiful? Or did I need this... And could only dump my insides out when there were clean sheets to soil. No matter. I'll just pull out the well worn manual. Step 1. Be willing to feel. Step 2. Feel. 1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1... 140527 what's it to you? who go blather from