Midnights become my afternoons
When my depression works the graveyard shift
All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room
Sam drew out another cigarette and lit it. She was not ready to leave. The shadows were deepening around us. It was a bright early evening when we entered the restaurant now, no light showed through between the window blinds. Another sign that summer was coming to an end.
I tried to form a reply. I sputtered partial phrases, none of which made much sense. "Don't get defensive, " she continued. "You need to find someone more mature. Someone that can offer you something mentally."
It sounded horribly boring to me. Like watching paint dry-- acrylic paint, not oil-based. No fumes to enjoy. I don't really want someone to challenge me intellectually. I don't really put much thought into things, except people, maybe, and you really don't need a Ph.D. to observe people.
"How can he and you not fight? You are the most annoying person I know! He avoids fighting because he is afraid of losing you. Which means he is probably suppressing issues; eventually, that will make him unhappy."