i'm tired.i'm tired of being forced to live without you.
i've locked myself in this house again to avoid the real world. the days drag on again like they used to. i watch the sun hover up there in the blue sky, and i wonder if it was really winter that i hated. summer seems a lot worse, even though i spent every other season wishing for it to return.
i remember when i used to look out my bedroom window at complete paleness.
everything was a pasty grey, and i remember how the snow used to sparkle on the neighbor's rooftop on the few mornings that there was sunlight. i wished for the leaves to sprout on the bare maple branches on my command, and i think i almost believed that if i wanted something bad enough, i could truly create it in reality for myself.
and i'm tired of begging for things like that.
i'm mostly tired of begging for you to come home to me. it's been months now. eighty-six days, actually. i've found that i don't have the urge to do anything anymore if it doesn't involve you. that's