Small hands

it's interesting how quickly Ducky came flying right back into my life.

flapping, even.

d, when i tell you you're nearly perfect, i mean it.
and when i tell you that you're the greatest person i know, i mean it.

but you look at me sheepishly, sad smiles teasing your mouth, investigating your toes as you murmur,

if you really think that's true, you're in for severe disappointment.

foundations

speaking of disappointment:

to you, bb. i wanted more. in the theoretical idealism i cling to so painfully, we worked. in reality, we failed. you failed. i failed. somewhere along the line, the 'we' became miserable, separately, together, rooted in this ethos surrounding overthinking.

i wanted you.
i want you.

but i know better.

maybe there's a chance for us later. maybe there's a we in the future.

but you're right. for now.
thanks for doing what i simply didn't have the courage to do.

warm sentiments to you.
lonely sleeps to me.
my heart's all heavy again, and i'm sinking, but b and d and j are all pulling me up with all their might.

and it's working.
for real this time.

bb, i wish things could be.

to you, it all makes sense:
my fingertips are holding onto
the cracks in our foundation
and i know that i should let go, but i can't
and every time we fight, i know it's not right
every time that you're upset and i smile
i know i should forget, but i can't

thanks, aaroneous.
it hurts, but you did the big thing.

c