Light heart, heavy lungs

I’m not lonely. You’re lonely.  I’m pretty lonely. The worst part about unpacking your things in a new apartment, in a new town, is having parts of your life that you associate with a different time in the new time you’re trying to create. I almost wish everything I own somehow disappeared between Brisbane and here.  I feel like sitting on the floor with nothing would feel easier than sitting in a pile of memories.  The worst part is that I can’t help but salt the wound. I can’t help but run the cut on my tongue along the back of my teeth. I can’t help but fill my cup until the melancholy overflows and I spill it all over my clothes. Its always been the best and the worst part of me.

Feelin' lonely, lonely, lonely in Melbourne town.