three times, one day, no revision for now

Everything points to patience. Everything I read. Everything I live. Every piece of advice says, "be patient, patient, patient." This goes against my nature. It is a struggle but I'm not willing to relent. I don't want to give up.
Now I have these things that live inside of me. They bump into each other and create new ideas with their motion. They ... they multiply and they divide and they destroy and nothing can ever be the same again. Everything is changing.
Everything that was is something else now.
I had a night with someone. He was drunk and I was high and we made out for hours. I fell asleep beside him only to escape to the couch. He didn't see me in the morning under my pile of blankets but we cuddled when he found me.
Now I don't know what I feel. Everything felt simple but it's been complicated. How? How did this happen?
From where does this melancholy grow? How did it bloom?

I found myself crying this morning as I searched pictures of Pants. I saw him and I could pick out his back from a line up. How do I know I love someone? All I have to do is see part of them in a thumbnail picture and I know. I just know it's them.
I know the freckles on his arms.

And I don't want to anymore.

I haven't met anyone to take his place. There is no place to take. He was never really here and the sooner I accept that the better for us both. I dream of writing him letters but I can't stand the silence that is sure to follow. Or the blatant rejection.
And anyway, everything says "be patient." I can't rush anything. I can't force time's hand. I can't make anything happen. I am so tired of being impatient. I'm so tired of the trouble it brings.

There are still things that hurt me in a way I can't explain. It's a tightness in my chest. It's a lightness of breath. It's images that jumble into the faces of people that have loved and left. They form a single entity that I can't bear to look at. They form someone that could never be satisfied with me.
I have been researching what it means to be an empath. I think I am one. I feel like a liar. How can someone who's supposed to be an empath be so bad at communicating? That's the kind of empath I am. I didn't get to pick it. I just know things that I'm not supposed to know. I know things and sometimes I can use the knowledge in a way that makes sense. Other times it just confuses me. Mostly I get confused. I doubt myself a lot. It wasn't until Dru died and I started looking beyond what I could touch and hold that I was able to really focus on these feelings I had that were not mine. I could feel what other people felt. I wasn't projecting. I just intuitively knew what was bothering people and I couldn't understand that other people didn't do that too.
It's difficult and it's lonely and it's confusing and I'm never really sure if what I feel is true or if it's just what I think.
I have been looking for answers.

I can see who people could be, not who they are. It fucks me up. I do that with Nine. I see who he could be if he wasn't so insecure. but that's not who he is. He is insecure. I can't change that. Only he can. So why do I wait to hear from him? Same thing with Pants. I see many ways he could be, but he isn't any of them. I am still connected to him. I can still tell how he feels and deals. I can feel it and honestly? I wish I couldn't. because part of feeling what he feels is that I feel how he makes himself not feel. I know what he does to keep from acknowledging. I know it in a way that is knowledge and not explanation. I know and I wish I was disconnected too.
I'm so tired.
Put my brain to rest.