this is not obsession. this is not regression. it's something like infatuation, but deeper. I spoke out loud to the dark just to see if the words sounded right. I'm still not sure.
this is not falling, or flailing; it's more like opening. and I can't determine the cause of the change of my mood. if it's him, or the weather, or some combination of that and other things.
what we wanted places itself squarely on our chest once we've given up hope of finding it, right?
there is a weight there, now, that I do not want to lift.
a weight and a fullness that I'd missed.
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