the throw up butterfly sensation

I'm thinking about my life ahead of me. Whether it includes someone special or a big future, I honestly don't know.

There are trees surrounding every window of my house. They line my walls like painted pictures. They are uneven and not perfect in any way possible but this is how I like my art. No one ever understands this. But I laugh anyway in the silence.

I hear a synth-like sound playing in a room above the living space. It's soft but loud. It makes me wish I was sitting. I listen and I watch. Things move in front of me and I can never quite catch all of them with my small eyes but I know things are moving. It's part of life. Things will always be moving.

I hear voices in the kitchen but they are quiet enough to know that they obtain the knowledge of my presence here. They know I want peace and quiet at all times of the day. It's quite peculiar that the lights flash here when it rains because I'd expect everything to be still, even when the sun goes down.


I write during the day when my house is empty. I don't know where I live but I know that I live.


Whether you're here with me or you're with someone else, I know that your influence plays a great role in my writing. Let it be detailed and fall slowly in between nouns and subjects and verbs. It's a funny little sentence with your name in it. It's all quite different and picturesque.




So let me live now.