One for the road.

I keep typing, deleting. Writing, deleting. If only I could learn to be constantly thinking, and deleting.

I yearn to think, and delete.

Lightyears have passed since I let someone else turn me into a wreck. As unaware as I am, that someone else could currently be my own foolish self. All of my mirrors are skewed, so it's not like I'd notice otherwise.

I've racked my brain, picked my brain, rearranged and arranged my brain. I pick fights to bring myself closer to others. To have that "wow, that was shit, but now I love you" outcome. So unrealistic. I've never had the make up sex. I hear it's fantastic. I've done the break up sex, not so fantastic. I've done the "you're leaving for awhile, let's just have sex" sex, so bittersweet. I had false hopes of make up sex. Does anyone ever have make up sex? Or is it too Sex and the City?

Funny things is, I'm not even talking about sex, I just like typing the word because it's the last three letters left on my keyboard that haven't faded.