finding happy things

i have fallen from a cloud, to the ground -hard- below.

finding the happy things i used to know is the only way to go on now,

so here you go, whoever you are, whoever you aren't:

i like to look at photos of my mother.

i prefer small groups over large ones.

i enjoy the sound of the water in the toilet tank rushing back after a flush.

i like the smell of my saliva in the morning.

i like the smell of my armpits, they are not offensive and smell eerily like the breeze directly over the grass.

i like being held by arms larger than my own.

i take pleasure in the smell of burning paper.

i want love the feeling of mud beneath my shoes, the uncertainty of the stability of the ground.

i like to remember white beds and white robes.

i like the feeling of crying when you've been holding it all in too long.

i like the way it feels to have steam burn your face.

i like swallowing large amounts of liquid just to see how much i can really swallow at once.

i like to imagine that you and i are looking at the moon at the same time.

i like to imagine that my mom and jeff are just an hour away and that i can have a hug whenever i need it.

i like to talk to my sister on skype.

i like the feeling of clay between my fingers,

i also like the way it feels to have clay dry under my nails.

i want to draw like Samantha, not like myself.

i want to be sure of myself.

i want to know what it is that i have been trying to think all along.

i want to know if i know anything at all.

i want to mean it when i smile, i want something real to smile about.

i want to not feel lost anymore.

i want something worthwhile and wonderful, hell mundane would do really.

i want to listen to a song and think of something other than your hair between my fingers.

i want to stop rereading the words i wrote and thinking that i have lost something i cannot ever get back- you cannot get back things that do not exist anymore.

i like the sensation of a hot tear rolling slowly and then more rapidly of the fatty flesh of my cheeks.