and also, this is exactly what i want to be doing: 2 AM sitt-inn, reading Bukowski, love is a dog from hell, knowing my heart aches from someone who was not worth me, or a life together spun of lies, his lies and my beliefs. yet it hurts and it’s good that it hurts cause i’m alive and i can feel the dog barking at me from all sides and i can be lonely and hurting and happy and hurting still over someone i can’t get over just yet cause i’m so sad and mad and indifferent too and i still love him, i do, i don’t want to but i do, like a silly girl in some silly slapstick. it’s not him i miss. i miss that feeling, when it all started, the overwhelming joy and craze. i don’t want normal, i’ve never had normal, i don’t know what it looks like. and i don’t want any of them. i want june. at midnight.