it’s been a long time

        where have i been

    where have you been

        who have we been to each other

    i miss you

        i miss you too

. . . 

    i’m not sure how to start this again
    
        then don’t
        
        let it be something else
    
     but i always do that

         then why would this time be any different?

    because i want it to

    . . .

    it gets exhausting, creating something else every time

         but you never really lose those things

         . . .

         they become a part of you one way or another

    true

    i just wish it was easier

. . .

    what’s the point of writing?
   
        hmmm

        . . . 

        the point of writing is to have written

    why would that matter?

         because then you know what you would write

         given the chance to

    can’t i just imagine what i would write?

         you could try

         but you’d probably imagine it wrong

         some grand vision instead of the reality
 
    can’t i aspire to do something interesting?

         it’s okay to aspire but you need to live in reality

         or you’ll miss out on what is