i feel poetical. inquisical. symmetrical.
i read a sentence today that spoke of photography and said “…a whole human being, turning into a collection of dyes on small white rectangles of paper.”
it stuck with me.
i think about you all the time. everyday. and it drives me mad. i wish i knew you were okay, or what you were up too. i wish i knew what you were wearing or who you last spoke with. and i wish i didn’t want to know any of this at all.
i wish you would show up at my door. and i wouldn’t even ask you to speak. we would just stand there. for hours maybe, in silence. that’s all.
i wish you would read this sentence and think of me.
some days i hate myself for being so disillusioned. so hopeful. so asymmetrical and idealistic and optimistic.
