Some days

I feel like I need to write and yet am devoid of anything to write about.

Numb. I wouldn't say comfortably numb. No not at all. Numb in a way that if I choose to start feeling I will fall apart. I am choosing not to feel. I am choosing not to choose. Choosing not to do anything. And yet there is so much to do.

Sometimes I envy those who can shut it off. Shut off their minds. Or those who do not think deeply at all. "Small" minded people sometimes have it the best. No questioning of reality. No questioning of what it all means. No questioning of what to do next.

Some days I want repetition. Some days I want monotony. Some days I want simple. Some days I want to just live. Some days I do not want to be anything special. Some days I do not want anything extraordinary. Some days I just want to lie in your lap as you run your fingers through my hair and tell me everything will be okay.

Even if it's a lie.