strangers.

I don't know why, but when I think about people, it seems as though they're thinking about me, too. Maybe it's because I somehow project my thoughts to them.
That sounds like crazy talk. Maybe.
Or maybe thinking about someone is the same as whispering their name into the wind.

He played the guitar for me over the phone. I sat by my window and thought about the morning I could hear him playing guitar outside. It was weird, thinking about the gap of almost a year that sits between now and then.
For the first time in a long time, conversation wasn't difficult.

"My favorite part of the song is a quote from the first thing you said to me."
Sometimes, strangers can be just as bad.

I never really wanted us to be strangers.
Is that what we are now?
Is that even what we were then?


I don't like to over-analyze things, but the byproduct happens to be a motivation to get things done.
To get my act together, to make important phone calls, to clean, to plan, to do.

I know what I crave.
Do you?