and i have been sitting here plowing through things in my head. it's making me want to take long drags off cigarettes.

sometimes, i don't understand my friends at all. or, at least, sometimes it becomes clear to me that the way i think about them is completely wrong. i think about the way i perceive them, and the armor i imagine they have, and the bright firecracker light

and then, sometimes, just sometimes,

i get to see what they are really all about. and that they really feel naked and unprotected

much like i do

and even if they don't mean for me (or anyone else) to see it [even though they talk about it, they rarely act it, so it can be unreal to me], i do

and i love them so much at those moments

the confusing moments when how i see them and how they are smash together like glass against glass

and i pick up the glitter-like powder on the ground, staining my fingertips red as i push them this way and that

and then it's like pulling your fingers through warm beach sand.

beautiful, soft, comforting.

i try not to beat up on myself for the way that i see the world, the way i assume everyone experiences certain things the way i do. i imagine it's narcissistic to assume that and get angry, even when i try hardest not to. but when i find out that some one does experience these things in the same kind of way i do

it really does help make me feel less alone.