my watch has stopped and i am a blubbering fool.

the air in grand central station tastes like the air inside a shopping mall. i have never noticed this before. maybe something changes when you're trying not to burst into tears for the 97th time. maybe wherever you go gets that mall-scent.

i almost went home today. i was tempted by the track postings and the tickets i know i have with me to just hop on a train, go home, and say, "hello, family, i really need to be away from everything right now, will you let me sleep in my bed?" instead, i took the 6 back down to my other house, which, for the past few days, finally felt like a home.

that was about 7:45 this evening. 12 hours earlier, i almost hopped a train to montreal. (okay, by "almost" i mean it was there and i wanted to.) i was tempted by the thought of prolonging this — whatever this is (is this how people are supposed to feel all the time? is this what i'm missing out on? or is this just reserved for a special few who understand what it means to walk and breathe and think in sync?) — and forgetting that i have other things i supposedly should be doing.

instead, i stood next to a stainless steel trash can in a corner and wept for ten minutes.

and now i am weeping because i'm sentimental and corny as fuck. i just don't understand why all i have left is a shirt and a heartbeat to remind me of what i don't have. and i don't understand why, for a nineteen-year-old girl who is living so much life every day, the universe has decided that i operate much better when i feel so empty and hopelessly alone.