and then there were none..

I haven't written here in weeks. I wonder if I haven't written here in weeks because a) I have nothing to say or b) I have more to say than I'd like. I'll opt for b.

Mood = fickle. I'm noticing a shift, I'm always noticing a shift but instead of shifty others, it's shifty me. The so-called iron clad contentness is crumbling. I used to believe I was a true master of emotional detachment. Well, mainly selective emotional detachment. The, I'm not going to care about you until I choose to. Until I deem you worthy.

Worthy.
Notable subject. Notably subjective. Are you worthy? Am I worthy? When my hair is set, my dress fits right, when my lips are painted to perfection, I am worthy. I am worthy and you can't sway me. And that right there is a keeper. Keep that moment, that momentum going. It's fleeting.

I want to kiss you, and that scares me. I want the attention that I long for and I'm worried that the longing even lingers. I wanted you to say goodbye when you should have, when the scene was closing with the credits looming. I want. I want. I want.

And here I am, and there you are. You're over there, and is this even about you? It's about me, it's about her. It's about him, and them, and those in the background. It's about every part of my being, and not an ounce of yours. And you think you understand, you think your intentions weren't meant to falter, but they did. Intentions you undoubtedly chose to set forth without paying attention. Intentions, attentions, attention kind sir. Do you even have those? It? Did you even stop for that brutally honest unveiled second to notice the pause, or voice inflection, or the king of impetuous lurk - doubt.

I'm too much and you're not enough. And the funny thing is, we're both interchangeable.