i'm writing this to myself. there is something missing. i can't describe it. i'm not sure if i can find it. it's starting to make me feel empty.

am i trying to fill it? with unnecessary promises to myself? with white lies that make it feel a little bit better, even if it fades before i can enjoy the falsity?

i should be doing more. living more, saying more. grabbing it by the face, fingers poised on jawline, and devouring it for all that its luscious mouth can give. but i'm not.

i'm laughing it off, pretending it isn't attractive. isn't desirable. isn't something i desperately want.

i can't keep fooling myself, choking on my tounge and spitting up the words i need to say.

no one can understand it. because i'm not explaining myself.

and i should start making sense of it all.

prove me wrong.