moving.

moving makes me nutty. im a weepy mess.

oh, oh - but things are so good - so good - and i wonder what i did right, and, even now, still!, i dont trust it. weepy mess, runny mascara, i still cant eat this fucking bagel from this morning, the three hours of that drive never even hit my consciousness (where did those hours go), and ill bet therell be lane lines running through my exhausted dreams tonight, working themselves out.

time to call in the reinforcements.