I rip open the paper and almost put the tea bag in the recycling. I love plants, I can’t keep them all alive. Except you, plant, the one I never do anything to. I like you.
I’m sorry I made plans with you tonight and broke them. My stomach does hurt, but really I just wouldn’t have known what to say to you, I would have spoken in poetry and beautiful phrases or completely unintelligibly, and either way it wouldn’t have been true, this state I’m in, it’s not for acquaintances, or even most good friends. When you’re high like this its easy for people to fall in love thinking its always like this with you. That or you talk only about the ocean, and a person might wonder, why does she go on this way? Is she so simple? No, it wouldn’t be right. It’s not fair to either of us. Maybe this night is for a lover who can make love… while looking quietly at the moon, not even necessarily touching. Or perhaps completely entangled, sitting on each other’s laps letting our skin be the continuous sensation of togetherness. But tonight a kiss alone from the right lover could be ecstasy beyond worlds, any more and I’m afraid I’d lose myself, sometimes there can be too much. Small sensations are magnified, tiny demonstrations of life bring you to awe, a flower just starting to wilt in late august with the sun setting behind it, or a child laughing and drawing unreadable symbols with chalk on the sidewalk, unconcerned with being understood, with permanence, with consequences. When you feel deep guilt and consternation at killing an ant, you can’t go where the music is loud and you have to yell. There are states of mind that are gifts and they’re not to be taken for granted, they’re for seeing truth, observing what is unobservable, feeling, and wandering.