Ficly

Pulse

I write and write and write and hate it and backspace and backspace and backspace over and over and over and none of it ever sounds right.

I’ve got so many thoughts running through my head, but none of them clear. It’s like my mind is so insane that it’s blank… blank chaos.

And the only thing keeping it straight is contact.
Human contact.
Conversation.
Someone pausing from their own life to hear me out, and listen.
And not only that, but just…
making a connection of… ideas?
No. Simpler than that.
Pulse.
A friendship that’s more than that.
That’s what I mean.

um.
You keep me sane.
Do you realize that?
I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s like…
My life is a movie, right? But the person watching the movie is an idiot and keeps fast forwarding the whole thing… except for the parts with you. Those parts are played out normally- and those…
those are the parts that make sense.

You’re hugging me.
My smile is next to your ear, right next to it.
I can feel you close to me.
And that makes things okay.

This story has no comments.