Dude, I miss you and hope you're ok.

Just keep not answering your phone, baby. Each day it gets easier and easier to forget you.

Woke up today, fuckin' conquered Mt. Woodson, and all I can think about is kissing you all over. Get over here already!

Tonight I feel in love with you. Tonight I want bury my head in the sand.

I’m frightened to even attempt to touch those memories… The ones where I sat around after getting off of work getting progressively drunker and drunker until I’d eventually pass out or ride my bike to Del Taco. No future plans whatsoever, just a focusing on getting more and more wasted; slowly turning into this fatter version of myself.

Spending time out here reflecting on those actions from a far less substance induced perspective has almost made me side with you in your decision to have done what you did!

Ok. All self-reflection aside, I’m a fucking idiot. And I got the memo way too late. Now I’m grabbing for fucking straws when I had what I wanted all along. I swear I was dropped on my head.
It’s winter.

Standing outside tonight smoking a cigarette I hear shouting making its way down the street. All that's emphasised is, "FUCKING GARBAGE. FUCK... SHIT..." I walk closer to the sidewalk to get a better idea of what's happening. I then realize, as the anger comes closer, is that it's a couple and the male is laying into his partner. Just letting loose. She has a solemn look in her eyes, but is still clutching his hand as they slowly walk passed me. I stare directly into his eyes and walk too close for comfort. He stops. Then as he passes I hear his tone gradually pick back up into his same loud tyrant. Off into the fog of Point Loma. Parting the grey curtain and being reclaimed by the city.

I saw myself.

It was beautiful pulling into San Diego. The fog was creeping all around the peninsula, glossing over my open eyes, giving the world a blurred effect. Far from the dry, dead feeling of the previous two weeks.

My sister's cat Nova is circling me right now, only stopping to kiss my leg. She gets like this late at night. The majority of the day she can't be bothered, but come one am she's out of her shell and ready to talk.

I couldn't help rereading my text messages and feeling a strong sense of my own pathetic self shining through. All the grasps at attention and the pleading for a response. I can't remember ever being like this, so the new discovery hit pretty hard.

I think a lot of it is my own internalization of coping with this new loneliness. I've noticed my dreams have been turning on me. Fabricating tales of the absolute worst case scenario and subtly convincing my consciousness to believe my lying subconscious. Leaving me utterly HOPELESS every morning. A complete ego loss. Left trying to piece this invisible multi-picture puzzle of my own convoluted delusions.

Or not.

In a total twist of fate, I rediscovered music from when I felt the most open to my emotions and willing to fall in love with any idea. I still think that sixteen year old me was light years ahead of what I've become. And, fuck. What I've become. I'm really ashamed of that.

Some people move slower than others, I guess.
Thanks for writing in the margins.
It's cold out. I can feel it forcing itself into the window. I'm throwing on an extra layer and Nova's still circling.