sing me to sleep

you know those times where words come so easily out of your mouth you don't dare say a word? well that's where i am - and i don't know why.

normally when i am in these moods i retreat to my front porch with a cup of tea and a pen and paper. but my porch is miles away and my inclination to put pen to paper is dwindling. though, worry not, i do have the tea.

i'm at that point where no music, whether it jo stafford or the carpenters, sounds right. where i can't even stand the titles of the songs let alone the songs themselves.

and it took me one very little movement, the slightest nudge, to get me here. maybe it's the guilt of giving up on someone who's been a someone in your life for 5+ years. maybe it's realizing you never should have put effort into him to begin with. or maybe it's just feeling so detached.

that reattaching to something new detached. where you don't know what to define as familiar and what you should recognize as different. transitions i guess.

transitions of feelings? right - that's unfair. setting your mind for something new. well old new. familiar new. that's it: calculated risks.

that's all i am. i read situations too well not to know what i am getting into. its a dance with boundaries. the fred and ginger of free falls.


(billie holiday's "misty"? a song my indecisive self can hum too? this will be nothing some corona and an audrey hepburn marathon can't cure.)

decisions are for mondays and i have just given myself a 4 day weekend to seclude all prospects of emotional strangulation.