Tonight, I wish I smoke. I don’t want to actually smoke. I want the excuse to go outside right now and just sit. Be. I want the clutter of my room to escape my head just by going outside to do something. I can’t think here. I feel really trapped but in a sense that’s not very familiar to the meaning of the word itself. I now understand what Rhys means when he says he likes smoking because it gives him the excuse to leave and sit by himself. To think. I get that now. I want that. It’s weird too because all I’ve been for the past few hours is alone. Why would going outside make it better? It will though. I know that. Well, it won’t make it better but it will be what I want. It’s silly that I don’t just go outside, sit on my deck, and be right now, without the smoking. But I won’t do that. I would just sit, feel silly, then scared…then go back inside. Maybe if someone was here with me, someone I didn’t need to talk to, who would just sit outside with me. Then I would do it.
