feeling: unsatisfied

the incessatiable me. the terminally hopeless bad speller. the girl with a smirk, with a doppey gaze, with a sparkle in her eyes, with a tear in her smile; the over dramatic, verbum sap!

i'm wanting, seriously debating, on delaying other tax return purchases for a digital camera. just thinking of all the fun that could be had. or all the fun that could be had in oregon, another purchase of debate. and yes, i debate. it's that feeling of being unsatisfied, maybe moreso and plainly put, a tad bit flummoxed with the end of scene.

i waited to hear, i wanted to hear, but nothing was said. strong and beautiful feelings over come with silence; years of emoutional silence, with eyes wide open. i struggle with the reality-with understanding, knowing but neverless, wanting. so very intensly, wanting to hear- needing to cease from assuming, one way or another, an audible tangability. if that's even a real word-if that even makes any sense or not.

so here, in the paranoi of the void, my mind begins to drift, and i cringe for safety and stability. even with these not real words, i am cringing-teeth grinding, "do i stay or do i go?". and if i stay, or if he follows, or if i go, can the unsaid now be natural? is inquiring in and of itself an ansewer in and of itself? or perhaps it is ensuring what is already assumed in optomism.

"so trivial", i tell myself, "i know."but being smart. what about being smart. moving across the country for the, merely, percieved plausible? i can not, or as the case will probably be, i should not move for that which is more hypothetical than it is substantial. and that i derive from the silence.