it is november again, and almost midnight. i find myself here once again. sitting in the corner of the room in a blanket with a hoodie on trying to make sense of things. trying to find things to sustain the last bits of me. i wonder if all november will carry is heartaches and longings and emptiness. oh, the emptiness. the loneliness. it is all so great i cannot blame november for not being able to ignore them. for embracing them because all year my cowardice has tried to put the fire of these feelings out. but november keeps these feelings on the bed side table, on the edges of the rooms and on every piece of the marble floor. on the grass of my safe places. everywhere. everywhere. everywhere. inescapable.











