For the tacks in your bed

The end of paralysis, I was a statuette
Now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench
And when I press the keys it all gets reversed
The sound of loneliness makes me happier

- Bright Eyes


And can it possibly be I'm a sucker for all these things?
I am full, to the brim, with lovely unmistakeably lovely thoughts that are beyond plausa-possi-bility. Sometimes in a totally surreal unhealthy way I would rather exist in my thoughts and forget to actually live. Sometimes that effort to make my life worthwhile just isn't worth it.
And in that isntance I would rather seclude myself in the expanse of my mind, where I can be whatever or do whatever I want. It's a beautiful thing.

I don't know how to interact. I think I'm just really good at faking it. I think I might be void of that ability to just truly connect to someone, and the people I do the people I do I never connect with long. Like a puzzle piece that looks like it'll fit but never does.
I'm just a puzzle piece without my puzzle.
But what a sad life to just fit.
I would like to do more than that.