Love, or something ignites in my veins.

And I pray it never fades.
In white houses.

I need something else to talk about.
I need something else to think about.
This might have a little something to do with the fact that nothing happens in my life.
Ever.
Except for weekends, which feel like little clips from someone else's life...
And I can't even remember the good part.
Why the hell can't I remember the good part?!
(All of it's the good part. All of it matters. I can't become her. I won't.)
I need to stop rereading that piece of conversation.

Part of me is counting down the days to June 22nd.
Part of me is trying to make time stand still, and is being pulled kicking and screaming through May and towards July.
It's a weird, ridiculous, horribly torn feeling.

I'm sorry for whatever I've done wrong.
I'm sorry for whatever I've forgotten to do.
Will someone just tell me what I'm screwing up?
I want to be a good person, but I can't be until I know what to do.

[[you'd miss him. you love him. it's possible to love more than just one person, you know. but I'm glad I'm your favorite. I love you.]]