fiction.

i shift through moments, always leaving out details.
whether it's on purpose or not, it seems to happen.
my mind re-creates, picks & chooses for itself.



: why can't you be normal?
[normals boring and the days are long]
: speak from your heart, tell me what you're thinking.
[breathe, think, breathe, blank, breathe, nothing]
sometimes my mind is completely empty. i cannot offer much else.
: don't turn away from me.
[you said you know what it feels like to be kept waiting.
you said it was unfair.
this is unfair]

i never really learned patience with people, until i met him.
until i realized that my faults are not as minute as i had made them out to be.
he never hesitated to point them out, to try and make me see what he sees.
there are constant thoughts about us always circulating in my mind, regurgitating themselves and they sound different each time, but they always come back to the same conclusion, the same questions.
perhaps i have not asked them aloud because i am weary of the answers.