razorshimmy

I'm quite lonely and tired. All I can think about lately is how much I miss the sense of companionship I've had in the past, and how that feels totally absent from me now, like the time it was there was some fever-dream of my sick present.
I yearn for the breath and scent of someone that I'm sure was meant to sigh and roll and sleep next to me, not romantic, or even explicable, but just certain. And yet, I feel so far from it that I can hardly describe it, to use yet another metaphore, as though I were at sea, and the idea just a memory of the shoreline that had long since faded.
And yet, I smile.
I don't feel like smiling. Neither do I feel maudlin or as though I want to revel in my own self-pity, but for some reason my body rejects the signals of depression and lonesomeness that hang around me like deep anchors, and instead I only burn brighter with that hope that my dreams really are memories of what came before, and that I was loved, and for good reason, and might be again.
I smile, and keep smiling, and my idiot grin burns with ignorant intensity, and pushes the deeper shadows back into their yawning, distant caves.
And so I push on.