And now I want someone to chat to, except there’s no one around.
What is this feel?!
Sometimes I wish someone would capture my most vulnerable moments, I feel like I would somehow know myself better.
This is one of those things I think to myself far too often
Except that that next time never seems to roll around
Sometimes I wonder if I should speak up
Say what I’m thinking/wanting/feeling just a little bit louder
But I’m distracted by the fairground lights and the thought of ‘I can’t afford this’
I feel like my whole life has been a series of ‘I’ll be able to do that next time’ and next time turns into another day and another day turns in to never
I shouldn’t be ungrateful, because sometimes I end up doing something a little bit better or a little more sensible or a little more fun
But mostly I get my heart set on something that I can never seem to have
But that’s life, eh?
And there’s always next time
I want to journal in one of those pretty notebooks I own, but I’m curled up with The Porcupine, reading The New Yorker, and I don’t want to move because this might be heaven.
But I need to word vomit because today has been an exceptionally long day.