Call me to return.

Thankfully, I no longer have the notebook. Left in a bag, lost on a train. Would I want to read what I’d scribbled, starved, drunk, alone in a hotel room, by the sea? It’s always the same. But isn’t that what we’re all afraid of? I’d like it if things would stop, so I might just stay here forever. Yes it hurts, but that’s who I am now. In this moment, it’s the pain that defines me and in a way, I don’t want that to go away. It hurts because things change, and though life may come to rest, briefly, it’s never long before the next ride begins.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply