Want something that I want
Something that I tell myself I need.
Where does the ocean go?
Where do ideas, feelings go? Do they ever leave us?
It's been so long, I wonder what changed in the way I process everything. It seems I no longer need the sheet of paper to clear my mind, to make a path, at least not as much as I used to.
I cried last night, because we played The {And} question game and when the question read 'What do you want out of this relationship?' his answer was 'Genuine happiness' and 'waking up feeling happy and grateful about the person who's sleeping next to you' and I cried a little because you know, I'm fragile like that.
There's no life update or anything. I look at our cats (we have *our cats*) and how they resemble the two of us and I wonder about life and how much meaning is there in what we deem 'chance encounters'. I wonder if I'm where I should be, and wonder who and what decides this point.
To the shore
Freedom
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