no erasers

sometimes I hate that in order for this crap to get out of my head I actually have to write it down which makes it permanent and floating and infinitely haunting. i can go back to a day when I was writing about you and crazy, man i know, it knocks me on my ass and all the forgetting i've been working so hard at just vanishes so fast it makes my stomach hurt. did you know i never told anyone? about your words. and even if i did they couldn't understand how much you said. i only wrote my own words in this ridiculous conversation with my conscience. and you know i never do this, but all of me actually hoped for you. but the way you turned around so fast with no explanation only silence baffled me cause in all my cynicism i am an optimist, just not an ignorant one. and yet you in all your emanating cheerfulness made it impossible for me to cradle any bitterness or discontent. only sadness and cravings and words.