I honestly did not feel like writing but my fingers got itchy. Heavy, even.
There’s something about feelings that are annoying. They’re hard to gauge in a way. Well, for me at least. There are these little inklings about people that faintly whisper to you. You kind of want to trust them but you also know how past feelings about people have gone. No reciprocation, and you’re stuck feeling like a fool. You get over it, but still.
I used to think it was a sign, actually. An omen, though. There was always something that told me to just curb those feelings, because my brakes are bad, I have a heavy foot and I might have a slight crash. A little bodily damage. Nothing serious, but enough to remember. Trauma is what some would call it. Then you want to ask God for an estimate on repairs but you’re scared because you’ve already asked for too much this week.
…look at me taking this metaphor too far.
Anyway, the shit is wack. But I’m still tempted to trust inklings, still riding around in need of some work done. They still come off as omens, but the feeling of longing is overpowering and somehow you’re egged on to take that drive.
This is heavier on my mind than I’m admitting, but I’ll just keep it simple for now.