pre-nap confessional.

i run. i go. i'm human, so all of these things make me feel tired. sometimes tense. i feel a nap coming on. i just have to get something off of the surface of my heart really quickly. i would hate to die in my sleep and for it to go without being said. this girl and her writing just made me cry. they weren't surface tears. they were from that spot in between my stomach and my chest. trachea tears. the ones that hide under my heart for safety's sake. i can do that. i can write that way. i do write that way. when nobody is looking. she sounds like me. she is writing what i feel. i'm upset because i didn't write it down too. i feel like i limit myself to the places that i can see. no, worse. i contain myself by writing and not satisfying even my own standards. i have become more simple with time. less expressive for the purpose of helping others to understand. to become easier to relate to. when that is never what i wanted to do. i love me. i loved me. i lost her. i want her/me back. come back to me. i'm here.