this isn't about sandwiches. but that's still coming up.

i was sick all night, and missed my ride to community service because i hadn't slept.
so i slept in until eleven thirty.
i looked out my basement window and all i saw was white.
i like to walk around when it snows a lot, to lay down some footprints in the places no one has shoveled yet. i like to think i'm giving someone behind me a place to lay their shoes and maybe their ankles won't be cold.

so i walked.

i went to a meeting down on geneva, and i refused to argue and i refused to feel bad and i refused to feel sick and i refused refused refused to cry anymore. my sodium is low, baby. can't waste any more of the precious healer metallic. i wish you would keep some of yours, too. i smoked with my friends and i made them laugh and i made them smile. first cigarette in a week. LOVED it. the smoke in my eyes, the taste on my tongue dancing and dancing and dancing around as i spat out words and people caught my passion and my laugh. it sounded like a rave, untz untz untz we like to party you know. pretty girls gave me cigarettes for my walk back, and they pretended to pout when i turned down their offers to give me a ride home but it's been one of those days and i wanted the time to be myself and to think.

so i walked.

dirt streaked slush and snow looked hard and cold, but it melted and splashed away from me when i walked across it. i feel like goddam moses parting the red sea. cars drive by too fast and splatter mud and wet all over my matt-coat and my skinny keldy-jeans. my gauges don't even sting in the cold anymore. titties titties! so there's shit flinging and falling all around me. and i'm getting soaked in it. shit is EVERYWHERE. but i think it's nice, that none of the shit is underneath me. none of this shit is my concern, because none of it is my business and it naturally just wants to melt away from me.

and i'm sorry i swore so much.
but i don't know if you realize how much i was hurting.
and i know you'll never think it's because of the things you said to me.

so go ahead and delete your pictures, go ahead and delete your posts and your texts and your emails and the words i wrote on your back in sharpie marker when we were wasted together and you didn't see the smile i left on your shoulder blade. but i know you won't delete me. i don't know if that's good or bad. you can watch me on facebook, look at my pictures when you feel alone and you think i don't want to talk with you like we do and you think i don't know how it feels to be sworn at and then told you're still loved. don't think i don't know how bad that stings, but know i still choose to believe that i was loved, even when i was being a dumb shit. stalk me, read about the girls i spend my days and my nights with. see how well i'm doing. see how great i feel. see how i am getting through my past and moving foward foward foward. GPS is nothing. i have shit to do with my day. don't let me read your blog, i don't care. but i know you're reading mine. i know that right now.

does that make you angry?
it makes me feel like you still have some hope left in you.
and i love you, baby.
i love you so much.

god. i fucking love this weather.
i'm going to go get coffee.
thank you for being my eskimo.

(you don't know what that means.
but it's pretty special.
and you're the only one i've ever wanted.)

can't wait until you forgive me
and until you forgive yourself.
i know who you are.
i wish you did too.