Catnaps

Catnaps are often worse than the real thing. They're worse than a night's sleep and certainly worse than a long nap. I dream more during catnaps. Maybe it's not dreaming. Maybe it's thinking. It feels more like thinking. It's never over fantastic of strange. It's thoughts taken shape in my head.

I wrote a letter i'll never send the other day. I wrote it so I could get it off my chest. Someone once told me that's the thing to do. The writing is the important part. After writing it, and reading it and, actually, not being able to read it as it blurred in front of me, I disagree. I think it needs to be sent. Actually, I think it needs to be read. Out loud. To the person it's intended for. I think that's the therapy. I think that's the solution. I don't think I can do it.

Yesterday was horrific. I was alone for the part that was bad. I felt alone. I was completely overwhelmed. I got overly emotional at mundane things. I cried at television shows. It was disgusting. Today is only better because I'm forcing it to be better. Even still, after I write this I'm going to take another catnap. I have a headache. Fine, I'm running away too. I admit it. I can only be strong in spurts recently and now is not one of those times.

I find it hideous when i'm in that type of mood. Yet, the people that I love so much and mean so much to me seem to all speak common words when they call. They ask what's wrong, they give me good advice, hard advice. They tell me they're there for me. Like I would for them. I hate being dependent on someone, but i love that they say those things. I love that they mean them. I wish i could thank them adequately. I suppose, though, the only adequate thanks is to be there when they need me. Because they are there when i need them. That. That I can do.

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I collide