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reverseXthisXcurse

Remember me as a time of day,
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The strange sleep has come back to me.

I denied it attention for so long. but now it's come back too easily, it's as if I had my arms open wide.


It's so strange; in the early morning hours, to be tossing and turning, seeing you next to me, sleeping soundly.

Watching your chest.

Rise.
Fall.
Rise.
Fall.

Now I sit here in the last hours of the late morning, and it feels like the sun is still rising.

Cigarette pressed between my lips, I'm not sure if I'm awake. Perhaps this is all a fantastic dream; this loss of rest; and I'm really just in a coma. Resting, with the occasional visitor that I'm unaware of.

But their intentions are kind enough.
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Nine dollars.

1 min read
To my name. That's all I have right now. We're in the shitter with our rent.

We need a new house. The rent costs too much for two people with minimum wage jobs.


Oh well. It's good that I learn how to starve once and a while. It's good.
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Snowed in. Absolutely snowed in. I can't stand it; cabin fever sets in for me very quickly.


I've watched classic movies all day.

I've got the mean reds.

I'm ready for summer, I don't like the cold, and the cold doesn't like me.
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I keep thinking that this is real life, and then I stop,




What is real life? How should it be? Me as Anna, or me as a single cell in the sea.

Then nothing seems alive, it's like we're little bits floating around.

Nothing matters.

Not your diploma, not your promotion or your pets.

How much food you eat, or how many phone-calls you receive.

It's you, and your body, and for some people a soul, should they choose to believe--in the middle of this vast conglomerate mass of memory and senses.

All of those other things are just...fluff. It feels like there is no time. (Or maybe I just have no concept of it.)

The only thing that matters to me is that .2 seconds that I feel like I'm here instead of a million miles away, bowing to the Procrustean bodies that loom over me.


I can't even explain how it truly feels in my head; words can't describe it,

I'm stumbling,

falling,

I'm sitting,

ignorant

of anything tangible.
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Tangled Sheets.

1 min read
"Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the 'good life', whatever it is and wherever it happens to be."


How is it that I am always the last one awake in this house? It's too short of a weekend for my taste, and it's three days.

You always notice when I say things like this, but I feel like I miss you, and I feel silly about that.


Sigh, I'm sleepy today.


I feel like my hair is too short.
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Featured

Curtains Peeking. by reverseXthisXcurse, journal

Nine dollars. by reverseXthisXcurse, journal

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme by reverseXthisXcurse, journal

The Only Moment, by reverseXthisXcurse, journal

Tangled Sheets. by reverseXthisXcurse, journal