Before I shower

Too often I find myself lost in the future. Whole days gone by daydreaming of things yet to come. My imagination gets the best of me cause it's so good that I forget you're not supposed to live there.

The tile on the kitchen floor isn't ideal for winter weather in a house this big this old this cold this empty. When the snow comes and the attic's breezy everyone shuts themselves into their own rooms so we go long whiles not realizing that we're not alone here. My family is odd because it's so large yet unbearably easy to feel lonely.

And who likes to feel lonely? I like the feeling of being alone, but being alone is only fun when you know that there's someone you can call or someone else who's awaiting your arrival so that they can share a warm bed with you, otherwise it feels like you're trying to trick yourself into happiness. It feels, sometimes, as if we walk by one another with millions of secrets tattooed on our limbs the same color as our skin so that the summer time seems to bleed the truth from our veins, you know?

And I forget what it feels like to settle down, sit still, make a home in a place. I've been living in a continual state of packing and unpacking, never fully achieving one or the other, and home's only in this heart of mine and the hearts of others. I haven't felt home in a place in the longest time, only with people. I don't have to have known them for long, and it's not a feeling that tends to stay with many, it comes and goes as it sees fit but for the time that it's there it's right and it's Home.

So I suppose you can take my theres but it's the thems I'll always need. With the temporary (right?) loss of my facebook, and my dislike of IMing (unless it's with Brendan as I've found that not many people know how to carry a proper conversation over IMs. I prefer words spelled out and long winded paragraphs with every depression of Enter.), I've got a yearning for just-saying-hey telephone calls and text messages. Participate. I'm sure you have my number.