Happiness Is Abundant, And In Short Supply. (It Doesn't Add Up).

we fight and i try and convince you that's what couples do. all your friends that i swear are bad news.
and it's sad when it's myself i lose, but you help me through.
so i find my soul and i'm reminded of what makes me tick,
all while these hinges feel on the brink of breaking.  so the door can open and
there's no mistaking i'll have the whole view.  uninterrupted.  i'm feeling so lucky - and you've never seen me cry so you swear i don't.
and between the lies we're all something else.  but mine is either all used up or stored stuffed within.
and i'm not sure which it is.
and when i'm on the toilet on my laptop, i realize that all this technology does have a purpose.  social media makes me anxious and i'd rather read hard copies.
hard copies.
remember floppies?  funny though how none of it shocks me.  it's just a new way to steal to me.
but hard copies has meaning, did you pause there?  was it because i made you?  would you like this handwritten in a cute mead memo pad?  does it make you sad?
you just see pictures and the comments aren't off the cuff, they were thought up, edited, and tested on others.
quite honestly i just miss my mother. when i have a spare second she always comes to mind and i know you can't rewind, but you can make up, so i just need to take up, space with time that fills with her.  i'm seven years old again and when she's not around i know i'm looking for a filler, someone to act as.
somewhere though the lines blurred and i just started acting like everyone was her.  has it made me feel better?  i'm unsure, but i think it's pretty clever.  a cat with nine lives, my mind jives, the lines hide whatever is really there.  was really there.
really there is gone.  and i'm not even scared anymore. cause i've faired it all.