I feel like no matter what I say, it will be exactly what I should have said

what do i call you?


my internal monologue runs rampant throughout the night, but when faced with this blank page, I still can't seem to tell you what I came here to do.

but we cannot sever this connection. i must keep something, you, to keep from disorienting. similar to the way i rub my hands together when I feel my grounding in reality has torn slightly.

if you like me too, then why cant i put my hands on you?

please talk to me

                                                                                                                come back january 1st