walking around the room singing stormy weather
at 57th Mt PLeasant Street
Well, it's the same room but everythings different
you can fight the sleep but not the dream...
you know how it is. you go for the stereo but you can't figure out what you want to hear.
you find yourself on a walk, no particular direction, and suddenly walking feels wrong too
you can't, somehow, find a craving for anything
which isn't to say you aren't hungry
they say it. they say "tell me something about yourself" and you just...can't think of a thing
sometimes, well, these days, I don't even remember what I like anymore and then I turn on the radio and this song, it used to be my favorite song, and it's beautiful and I can hardly believe how much I like it and how happy I am to like something
and then I remember other things about me
things I keep trying to catch a glance of in the mirror when I look right past myself and because really I'm checking for stains and making sure I blend, relatively effectively, into my surroundings
I don't get it. I don't get how I can feel like such a sore thumb, such an ostentatious guest most of the time, and can still feel my own shadow casting murk on my flesh
it's a softness, it's a squishiness
it's forgetting how to love yourself because you've forgotten how to recognize yourself because you really barely know yourself
is it change? is it catharsis. am I a new person?
I've always been shy around new people.
the other day I saw this picture of me. a recent picture. in it I'm beautiful.
well, I could hardly fucking believe it
I thought, shit, holy shit thats still me
why I've bareley changed at all