writers block

writers' block

again

again

again

today: i'm already over you. tomorrow? i'm over you, too. people come and go, but the days don't go anywhere, they just hang out and pass by and i'm still tired of them, save for those few hours when the world seems to fall into place (why not fall sooner than later? i guess i won't know that one).

i've spent the last few weeks listening to myself hum the same songs over and over and over again, like they're going to reveal some sort of excellent secret when i'm through with them (but not over them).

bon iver.

borrowed clothes.

same car.

different everything.

i don't know what i'm doing.

more later iguess.