I think

Talking would be nice.

It's there, all of it, what I need/want to say. A jumbled mess, but there all the same.

Most times, it's just infinitely easier to talk about other things. It's always been easier to present the less emotional side of yourself, the side that people look at and tell you makes them happy, because you are.
It's always so much easier to tell yourself, that if you focus on something else for a while, hold on to something you're sure of, the rest of it won't be real. And maybe, you'll get away with not having to sort out iffy things like your feelings or thoughts.

So here I am,
Sitting on the floor of the loo, my back against the wall-
Much like I used to do back when I was in school.
Believing, I think, that maybe if I sit here just a bit longer, the world will forget about me and I won't have to go back to it.

I wish I wasn't like this, feeling all this nonsense. And I wish I could understand it better.
I am generally upset.
For the most part, it's a lot of things added up. Perhaps if I took the time to sort them out into boxes, folders and sub-folders, it wouldn't be half as bad.
But I guess taking the time to do so has always been my problem.

Okay, wait, that's a lie-
It's never been a problem I've had because I have always, always found time to write and think and just, talk with myself.
I don't get that so much anymore.
I try to, I really do. But it's less writing, even during my alone time.
And God I'm tired.
That in itself is a contributing factor. This whole lack of time with myself (although I am left puzzled because I DO still have me-time, I just haven't been using it to write so oughtn't I just sit down to write then? Except I'm more tired these days and... Okay, we're going 'round in circles again.)

But I'm sitting here because it feels safe. The solidity of the toilet floor, the sureness of the space between tiles. I feel so safe I might just cry.
And the drilling and hammering and sound of machinery, it feels like we're lost in it. Feels like I'm lost in it.
But the longer I sit here, the further away I seem to get from all that noise and oh, just the rest of the world.

I am tired.
So perhaps it'd be okay to just, curl up here for a tad longer,
close my eyes and tell myself that the world will make more sense when I go back to it.
Although, I really sorta hate making promises that I don't know if I can keep.

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