Really, for real now, I'm good.

This is something I jotted down on receipt paper while musing at work. Very organic, no? I had a whole argument with someone about how doing that sort of thing on purpose negates the hipster feel, but I suppose I have no room to talk about contrived originality . . . anyway. It would seem that a very long, rather frustrating chapter of my life is closing, not to be too dramatic or anything, and this sort of articulates how.

__

Not much is different, but everything's changed
where it counts.

Cuz you're still you, and I'm still me, and that will never change, but what that means to us both? Who knows. I can't speak for you, anyway.

That fact . . . those facts used to make me angry, or sad, or a whole host of other negative emotions.

Those facts used to light me up and make me sing before they brought me down.

Now, I think . . . I think I'm leveling off. Those facts sort of ground me, in a way.

You're you, and I'm me, and that hasn't changed for so long that I'm not sure how I'd function if it did. That's a lot to put on someone.

I'm sorry for that, but. Thank you.

For being you, and letting me be me.