Staring at a door that keeps the cold in and not out. Seeing a zipper of a jacket in my peripheral; viewed the way Christmas lights would be out of focus. Blobs of bright light.
I'm feeling anxious.
I feel distant, I feel anger.
Subtle anger.
I want to feel love. For me. From myself.
Any of it.
I am not feeling the way that reading about Steve Jobs facts make me feel. Not the way 90's R&B makes me feel. Not the way wet hair from swimming feels in late night, summer weather.
I feel how darkness looks. Unstable, unsettling mentality. I don't know why. It was sudden.
When you look into sad brown eyes. How the pupil is consumed by the dreadfully vacant iris.
I feel consumed. Dead. Pressure. Absurdly forgotten. Conscience and perturbed.
A whole shallow entity. Spaced.
YOU ARE READING
Little Thoughts
RandomThoughts that can't stand alone; these ideas truly wouldn't be enough for individual projects.
