It's late and it's quiet and I love you

I am sitting at the computer wanting to write but with nothing to say. This happens often. It's like inside I know what needs to happen to feel complete but no muse to fill my brain with words to create....well anything.

I haven't really left my house in three days. Tomorrow I go back to work, I have no choice. I feel apathetic towards this arrangement. Get up (whether I feel like it or not), dress and prepare, drive through traffic to a place where I will spend the day being demeaned and miserable so that every 14 days I can pick up a paycheck and pay for crap I'm not even sure I ever wanted. This arrangement is not unusual. In fact, I think most people live their lives this way. What a sad lot we are.

It's for this reason NYC seems more plausible everyday. I have no real reason to be here in Seattle. I could sell everything and leave. I don't know what I would do differently in NYC. I would start by working as little as possible. I would work a small part time gig some place with no future and I enjoy the people. My days would be spent observing people, shrouded in art of all types. Maybe taking some classes and really learning about the power of the written word so one day I might be truly good at it. Sharpen a gift and desire I have had for so long. It's funny how much scarier this seems to me now then moving to Seattle did 3 years ago. I am not sure I could start all over again, again. I am alone and lonely enough here how much worse across the country but hey, maybe it would finally give me something to write about.

I love you
I say it because I mean it
although sometimes I don't.

Sometimes when I say 'I love you'
it's just to feel how the words slide off the tongue
like a million little nerve endings on fire

and sometimes I say it in the hopes you'll say it back
not because I want you to love me
or because I love you too
but because it's need is rooted too deep to remove

so I guess I love you.
Today, anyway
tomorrow it might be someone better equipped
Someone who knows how to make it sound real when they say it back
and doesn't need me to mean it in anyway

Not like you

You want it to be real
you want me to feel love

well,I do
I love you
tell me you do too

© Valerie Long