Interlaced fingers; Grubby hair.

I feel so tired.

So much has gone on over the span of this week that even on a Saturday I'm running on 6 hours of sleep,
And I just want to find a breezy place
Lie down for now
And let the frozen things
Flow.

I need time.
Contents of rumours screw you over,
And it takes time to remove your mangled mess of a heart from the lawn.
Even then there are stains of your hurt all over,
There is the feeling of having heaved with dry sobs under a running hot shower,
The burrowing of your face in your hands because breathing is shaggy and shallow
And your tears match up with the rhythm of a continuous shower of emotions.

Don't cry too much, because these people aren't worth the pain.

But if I am to be honest,
It gets to you because there's no way it doesn't.

I am done crying
But it still happens because it's always an arrow in the heart.



.
When I close my eyes,
It burns from all the strain that I've put it through



And I just want one, good, night of sleep;
One whereby I don't awaken an hour before my alarm
(And that has happened for as often as every day, this year)
With diarrhoea and a headache

One whereby I can have a nice dream.



I did, actually have one of those sweet things.
Someone was smiling at me the whole time,
He held my hand and laced his fingers through mine.
We sat in the kind of proximity that is reassuring instead of being overpowering
And we shared eye contact that felt like a profound form of understanding
I don't think words flowed between us
Because it stayed in my mind like a revealing dream does

And that was it
But it made everything feel a little easier.


I suppose,
That what I really really want
Is a little bit of support like this-
A sort of simple sweetness that is tuned according to your specific sensitivity.


.
I'll share the good things that happened later;
Let's, for now,
Rest a little before the revision for the next wave of tests.