I wanted to trick myself into thinking that I don’t know the answers. I wanted to look up the ceiling which unlike me, so sure of its form, or beyond the window backdropped with rooftops and laundry, sip my coffee and intentionally burn my chapped upper lip with it, and think about why.
Why I had so many chances of a possible lasting relationship but somehow managed to screw one thing or another up. Why I find myself, almost always, as a slave to loneliness, when I had every bit of opportunity to finally free myself from it. Why I never had the strength, maybe courage, or was it the lack of interest, to keep people.
To keep people. Sometimes seems a fairly easy thing to do.
I’m just like the rain, people are never so sure when I will go.