More of a random write than a true freewrite
In careless days, I used to sit around with my hands on the floor, firmly squeezed under the weight of my ass. I would sit until the feeling would slowly disappear and eventually let the feeling slowly tingle its way back in. Where do your hands sit, Lilly? Why do you look at me that way with your mouth shifted over to the left side? I thought I had you figured out but maybe I was taking a shortcut.
Sitting on a balcony with my shirt off. I just drank a mixture of vodka with whatever juices were left in my fridge. Pretty vile. I’m slouched in a camp chair held together with duct tape and one errant body movement away from hilarious collapse. Well, it would be hilarious to whoever watched. There’s a group of cars pulling out of the parking lot down the street, jerking along and screeching out that their drivers don’t have any business behind a steering wheel.
You still come to me in dreams. Just accidentally, not for any particular reason. These dreams leave bigger impressions on me than they should; why I remember them while the others fade into my subconscious scares me. But they just end, not resolving themselves in any form and the questions they lead to aren’t worth wasting time on.