i am thinking about birds, caught in the wind, caught in a lunch break with their wings spread floating above the water. above the miles and miles of emptiness, above me, cackling.

i am thinking about the point in the lake when the water is up to your stomach, it is cold and youre lifting your shoulders up to avoid the discomfort you put upon yourself. your friends are behind you, they are yelling at you, you are yelling at them, but no amount of yelling will get you under. it is to the count of three, and we begin, and we are there. 

im thinking about all the times i never said anything at all, in a place that probably could have used my voice. 

its about the unending dialogue in my head with my past. it is a forever game, no one is keeping score, but the decisions i made yesterday will always haunt me. i am trying to let things go, but i accept the past will never leave my present, no matter how hard i try to make it disappear.

im realizing that nothing is ever how you imagine, a hand on your shoulder from someone you love is different than a strangers, but its not worth explaining because what we are really after is the feeling, not a story.