it's 1am and i am thinking about love. how at any given point we have an opinion on it. at any given point we are on its track, even at the end of the line or starting a new journey. even when we're not supposed to think about it at all.
i am not thinking about someone, it's been a really long while since i've written for and about someone, i only have rewritten poems because i love symbolisms like that. as if, as if rewriting the poems are to reclaim them. bring them back in my body to return what i've lost writing them in the first place. apologies, i think calling them lost is a disservice to who i used to be. i never lost them, merely shared, but i'm taking them back.
maybe love is about taking back when we should take back. we give so much of ourselves away and for most, that's admirable. perhaps, beautiful. but i'm selfish, i don't want to continue leaving pieces of myself behind for people who do not care for them. i have too much to think of as it is, i don't want the responsibility of paying rent in people's spaces where i am not welcomed nor wanted.
where am i going with this? to be honest with you, i don't know. my thoughts are usually open-ended and derailing at any given point and i'm sorry for taking you out for a ride.
perhaps i left you burdened by these words. i apologize. i am only speaking for myself, i need to put them into words before the thought vanishes.
sleep-deprived, didn't proofread, and probably incoherent,
m