better than riddles

usually, i think too much. i look too deep into things. i see gestures and messages where there are none. i interpret body language. i search for a betrayal of true feelings.

but this time? you were a closed book despite the many things you said. all i could see was precisely all you revealed. and i couldn’t, didn’t want to, respond appropriately because i was content with hearing your voice.

even if i wished you were speaking in euphemisms for me to decipher. maybe a hint of what i could possibly mean to you. i looked, and there was nothing. i had alot more hope when you didn’t trust me this much, but i guess the truth is better than riddles.

back to the wards tomorrow. and i want to have mcd for breakfast. sigh.


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