In that instant it started to pour

it's like emmett's 15 min romance on queer as folk. perfectly you, awesomely amazing. you sit around and watch all that you once had go off in different directions and you cant help but wonder if it is you. ( it probably is) really i just want someone to cuddle with. me, him, homer, sleeping quietly together in the warm confines of my breezy slightly heated room. it could be any of the many. it could be any of the past. any of the present. i miss the feeling of space travel. i could find you and be together. but in reality it never worked out. the awkward moments the knowing without knowing and then needing the assurance. fuck all of that. i will be many cats. i will have many cats and i will be the crazy cat lady. i mean old crazy cat lady's were once young. just like most homeless people have been to kindergarten, building things out of blocks and petting rabbits. do i think that i am forging this bond with people when mostly they are just drunk and forget all of the fun? sometimes i wish i was a trust fund baby.