I couldn't bring myself to post till now. Now I feel like I need to purge a bit, even though this never really hits upon what I really think might need purging. But it makes me feel better. It helps me focus when I shut my eyes, I don't have a million things clamouring to be thought about.
For starters, I love work. Turns out being an adult isn't the way I thought about it. I think I'd die if I wasn't suitably intellectually challenged. It's wonderful and wonderfully essential to have purpose. To feel useful.
My beautiful darling man nourishes my soul. If not for him, all this purpose garbage would have no meaning. He is the caffeine in my coffee, the soft clacking noise of my keyboard.
I miss my colours. The new colours are understated. I appreciate their charm as well, but it's not the same. I miss the vibrancy, the pungency, the sheer bodiliness of mine. I miss the cheek of mine.
My new commute is going to involve long trips in the dark in a freezing car, which is as comfortable as I could wish it to be. I've decided this will be my time. My quiet time, with my good friends John, George, Ringo and Paul. It's been a while since I hung out with them and I miss them. Other times, it'll just be quiet. For my mind to slowly dissolve into me. Like sugary poison.
I want twilight music. Music that is soft and dusty and wistfully purple. With soft chirping noises of content birds and the intense longing for the person you love to come home to you. Music that breathes and sighs and yearns and waits.

Now I write letters to Australia
Now I throw bottles out to sea
I whisper the secret in the ground
No one's gonna take you away from me