moving.

i’m going to miss the sounds of the traffic. all the wheels always moving, not hesitating, not braking, not here. when i was just learning about myself and my skin and the capabilities of my small mind i used to sit under the highway in a tunnel that was meant for carrying water, the excess rain water so it couldn’t pool in the streets and cause hydroplaning and deaths and other accidents. it was calm and quieter than home. this room is like that, it’s the first in a long time and i am anxious and upset over saying goodbye to it.

there are only imprints now, and everything fits onto a single scrap of paper that hid itself somewhere around here. i don’t know if i will remember by morning because i never do, but everything is here, always, surrounding. just in case. i take deep breaths and smile before i fall asleep.

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