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| [weary minds and insomnia] |
My head is blurry and weary.
Weary thoughts that haunt my tired head.
There you go.
With her.
Elle - not moi.
Jealous?
Yes, well I think I am.
Of the fact that I can't be in his head. And he doesn't want me there anymore.
Too evolved to actually still put energy in my broken bones.
I am his white trash, his leftover, left to rot for someone else.
Confrontating.
...and now the song "Epilepsy is dancing" plays on the radio, from Anthony & The Johnsons. It found me when he left me. Another tune that I will get very weary, in a hopeful smiley way, from when I hear it again in a couple of years.
It's funny how music and smells (!) do that to you.
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