xoxo, nico

maybe you’re not aware of the fact that good things come in little blue packages or that i tied bells to my shoe laces so when i walk away it rings like your ears do when i talk about you. sometimes i think you can hear me whispering but thats impossible because you’re miles away from where ever i should be. so i wait until the coast is clear and i sit still until i can’t stand the same position. the same old thing over and over again like the alarm clock waking me up when all i want to do is slip underneath my pinstripe sheets and stay there for days not thinking about breathing.

i haven’t left brooklyn in 3 days. the farthest i’ve gone from my bedroom is a few blocks down the street. i have no excuse for staying inside when the weather is nothing less that gorgeous but i just can’t get out of the mind set that something is coming and i should stay at a close distance from these four walls for my own protection. i’m safe here away from suicide bombers and terrorists. i quit feeling sorry for you because you’re the victim so i’m the one who will be hiding out. i can’t take away what happened and i’m sick and tired of being the one feeling guilty for all these little white lies created by everybody else. fiction is an extension of the truth and every single one of us have to live with ourselves.

sometimes getting out of bed is the hardest thing. eating is inconvenient and all i wish is that the food was somehow miraculously in my stomach. picking up the phone is like having to lift one of those logs in that strongest man competition. i hear it ringing and i see who’s calling but i can’t bring myself to say the word hello because if i pressed accept it would blow up romeo. its like that guy who sits in a hole and waits for the president to call the red phone and give the command that kills a bunch of people. i stay in my room because i’m afraid that if i go out doors the sky will cave in and my shoulders can’t hold all the weight of the world. i know its not my fault but i can’t help but think that there has to be something more. that there’s something out there that connects all these dots and blurs together the rest of this puzzle. the fact of the matter is that whatever i keep looking for does not exist because i watched too many episodes of unsolved mysteries when i was a kid. depression is the bait that caught the fish.

she had a five dollar special and i rang the bell. she welcomed me in and said please have a seat. i held out my hand and she traced the lines on my palm with her ring finger’s red nail. she said you wear a mask and i surround myself with negative people. that no matter what is happening i will always be just strong enough to make it through tragedies. she said i have a tortured old soul and i will die because of heart complications after i live a long life. according to my palm i should be a mother and the person who i’m in love with does not love me in return. then she let go and asked me to hand her a twenty so she could tell me something that would alter my eternity. i said i would be right back i just have to go to the machine and get more money. as she was locking the door behind me i think that possibly she predicted that i lie through my teeth.