Like a thin glass ball full to the brim with water and feel like every movment, every harsh word spoken out of place, every minute shift will make the glass sutter into a million pieces and the water to flow in all direction.
Ned is sitting across from me, writing an e-mail on his phone. We are both tired and have no energy or will to communicate. He woke up at 2:00 today. I woke up at noon.
On of those nasty days of longing. Of wishing to be different then who I am. Of memories sounding louder in my mind then the noises of current reality. Of grasping at straws and trying to keep my head above water.