I get this feeling like I should buy a new chair. Maybe move the lamps around, throw out some different light, different shadows. Perhaps find an entirely new place to put it all. But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. It's just a scary possibility that hope dies last. To hear the people I've been talking to tell it--to hear the words that get thrown around inside my head--you might start to get the impression that everything else is already dead and gone. But it's all just songs, anyway. And there are days now that I can convince myself it's true.
One day I'll elaborate. One day I'll make it make sense. I don't feel like it today. I'm tired. Just tired.
