midnight

I should be sleeping but can't and i miss home terribly and that is so silly because i'm the one who never misses much of anything related to where i'm not but suddenly i think i'd sing for a month straight in a bird chirpy happy voice if i could get a patch of grass and some trees and gather the loving loved close and just dip toes in water and laugh about things that aren't sad or frustrating or having to do with poverty and disease and hell, i'm in the least third world of the third world (isn't this just one world?) which would probably push it up to somewhere closer to comfort so i have nothing to complain about right? and it is hard to be consistently alone in a way that i'd forgotten about because it's not just about physical presence but about tiny pings in your mind from all the bouncing and breaking and expanding it's doing and that's the optimistic version. If i think about time i get lumps in my throat and a piece of me breaks off and wanders away and whispers into a very tiny quiet corner so that no one can hear (but it blushes all the same) what am i doing here? how did i get myself into this? i drove with my eyes closed and lost track of the road and now there isn't a map i can buy that will lead me to anywhere familiar because i have oceans to cross and coughs to twirl around and blood to avoid and these speedbumps of anger and annoyance and sadness and missingness and discouragement and those long stretches of coastline wind blowing sun glowing territory are few and far between.

guilt, check. if i weren't so hell bent on detailing this circus procession in my head I'd delete this now. perhaps, in the morning.