it looks as if the day holds a shower and maybe more sleep. i have had nightmares for the second night in a row. there must be something going on inside that i am too overwhelmed to really notice or sort out right now.

right now, though, i am taking a break from walking around the house, blankly looking at the walls and staring out the bright oppressive windows, looking for rabbits outside.

i imagine that living on my own will be a long constant exercise in this kind of alone, that eventually the alone and lonely will cover my skin like a protective coating and ultimately i will know it as the very air i breathe.

but i do have to say, this is a familiar feeling, the not talking or being around anyone for long stretches of hours at a time. it's comfortable, and the dull ache that sits in my chest during these times, i can't say it's completely unwelcome.

it's that ache that causes me to write, to think through long complicated problems just to make my mind go through the rigor, it makes me paint and gives me a chance to...i don't know.

it is just the way shade falls on the floor, and the way my sheets are twisted up on my bed.

i have to be dilligent in discerning whom i can trust. i must be skilled at telling who is real.

i must remember that sometimes, words don't mean a thing.