Swelltide.

Sometimes, I feel like nothing is real. I hear people taking to one another and I infer insecurities, bravado and the things that go unsaid. I watch people interact with one another. The distance. Even in our movements and the ways we carry ourselves, we reveal ourselves-- in the little ways we try to lie to each other.

I can't explain it.

I have been fantasizing about leaving. Again. Just letting the bills go unpaid. The house how it is. Just, pack up only the things we need and go. No money. No phones. Just ourselves, a few blankets and clothes. 

I am not unhappy. I am stuck. I feel stuck, and I want out.