I am flipping through my attempts at budgeting which become more like food shopping lists for my expectations of myself, mostly concerning writing and traveling. I am trying to show you a feeling without telling you that I am showing you a feeling. 

Why guilt when simply it is because I have seen so many far away people recently and I have felt the ebb of having their body in a room with my body, palpations of three years between our introductions of our at-home-friends. I get so high I cannot screw the lid on the jar Vanessa left in the window. 

Guilt because it is the metal band that my mind can unscrew when I encounter a large feeling. I have spent so much time with you that I am out of practice with stretching my humor. I am too used to the patient silence I have known only in you.