today was long and confusing and frustrating and, the worst part: barely anything happened. in uneventfulness of such massive proportions, it was easy for these three to take shape and weight and sit with me. nothing worked.
the second worst part is that i know. i know that the outside world only works when the inside world does.
'it reminds me of neil gaiman's work,' he said. heart soared as far as standing up on a chair allowed. i was waiting for more words, but all i got was a smile. a cute smile. but still just a smile. another still, heart felt enough. even though all it was was standing on a chair. it thought it was soaring.
soaring in advance, soaring in possibility. one day he will realize i am the plane girl. one day the words will come. one day there will be magic. one day i will be content.
but it was never, 'one day i will get used to it,' so why am i neck deep in its debris now, suffocating?
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