Come back to me the way you were, the way you were when we were young.

My body is still on Glasgow time, so technically I should have been asleep alone in someone else's bed about 12 hours ago. Parts of my mind are still attached by silk threads to faces and voices across the ocean. In time, by the stain of salt water, they will wither away and I will fall back into this little city I was born in and I may actually feel ok. I bought a canvas and paints and I'm prepared for some much-needed artistic therapy. Now all I need is my guitar back, it waits patiently for it's string to be replaced....HINT HINT....not that you read this anyway.

It's good to see everyone, good to feel the collective boredom and soothing redundancy again. The sun shines hotter here, burns my face and slips into my brain to pump out baby vitamin D's. Happy pills. My feet feel foreign on these sidewalks, and my mouth curls over r's and juts out o's and my friends all laugh knowing it will soon pass, but it's something I still vaguely hold on to. Along with the singing and dancing, neither of which anyone here does. I feel like my head is being pushed under water, my lungs starved of air. Nothing has changed. I guess I don't fit in just as much as before. Not that it's a bad thing.

It got old really fast. A wink, a smile, a dance, a whisper, an invitation, a sleep-less night. Hands that touched like they loved, but a mind that knew they didn't. A heart that closed itself for fear of being stabbed. How can I be lonely after seeing so many eyes? Maybe because I could only ever look so far.