Sifting through memories like old photographs, at least the piles are less cluttered. What's more amazing is the dull hum of the television I've left on in the back of my head, it's just static. This buzz of white noise as I pull and plug the faint noises of voices I used to recognize. Now they're just garbled garbage mouth talk with some recording echo effect like they bounce off brick walls.

And I've listened to "Nothing Compares 2 U" at least three times today. Honestly, it gets better, just like everything else on repeat just before your patience collapses and you hate it all over again. I can feel the support beams bowing as I remember the smell and the way that she twisted her hair out of her face. What's weird is that first date, I didn't give a shit - I was too nervous and didn't think there'd be a second or third - and so on. Now I'm floating along this empty space just curious about the closure aspect of it all. Everyone likes a good mystery, except when nothing gets solved. And I'm a ground zero.

You'd think getting older solves a lot more problems, but it doesn't. Even steeling myself against occurrences such as this didn't prepare be very well except in the land of make-believe. I have the face that I wear and I wear it well enough. But when I close that door and no one's looking - it feels so good to fall apart before I have to put myself back together. And everyone always has to put themselves back together. I'm just wondering how long it'll be before the tremors in my fingers become so violent they can't hold the pieces.

I think that's enough free-flow thinking for now, developing ideas can be dangerous.