Time is passing very slowly tonight. It doesn't feel like just a little past midnight. I think on mood-swing nights, it just kinda gets that way. It's a lonely night. Very much so. At least I have a few friendly voices that quip up every so often - little blips on my computer screen, but their presence is some comfort.
Getting bored sometimes makes you hyper aware of your surroundings, what you're feeling, along with all the unchannelled energies that accumulate for someone who spends much of her time alone, in some ways.
The tension in my shoulders and neck that I keep trying to remember to release when I become aware of it.
The minute but slightly odd tingle that air conditioning creates on your skin.
The way Peter Cincotti's voice makes me tingle a whole other way.
The way the fluorescent light makes my head feel tight.
How the desk clutter is starting to annoy me a little.
The sudden realisation that I do have pink-coloured possessions - my pig wrist pad, a baby mitten that belonged to Caitlyn, the flower on my favourite perfume bottle, a tube of moisturiser. And do you know what colour is my lip gloss, momsie?
How much I love my new mobile phone.
How the music makes me so much lonelier but so much more alive on quiet nights like these, how it makes me want to run out and lock limbs with a hot-blooded male, how it makes me want to slow dance with a tall man who smells of fresh soap and light musk, how it makes me want to walk along the river by myself in the darkness.
"And I would lay your body down and rock your tears away
But it’s much too late for now to be like yesterday
And the time is running out and we still have to say
Goodbye"
~Goodbye Philadelphia, Peter Cincotti~
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