Julia.

I won't feed the cat, I'm tired. Very tired, leave me be.

It is not my fault, if I could change how you feel, I have tried, and you're everything to me. So I don the black (it is not mandatory), and I will be a part of your hymns, and the procession, and I will fight the crowd to squeeze your hand, and I'll give you my songs, and I will let it wash over me when you kiss her brow, when you don't let go of her, when the start to pull you away, because it borders on everybody's comfort zone, when I would have said, have it your way, when I would have laughed, because this is yours to call, they should not dictate this.

Leave me be, I cannot indulge in petty pleasures, they sag me, they bring me down oh-so-terribly.

There is time, only so much time, so please, please let me make use of it. She won't be okay, she can't be okay. And Julia didn't look like she was sleeping, and I did not have to fight the urge to break into mirthless laughter.

'...a hole which nothing can fill,' she said.

Too much has changed, I cannot, I have not yet grown accustomed to, and when I dream, it only clutters everything further. (believe it or not) I miss the empty space in my head I threw away. And these chronicles, they only make you play against it, and your slow chiding won't win me over, nor if you force it down my throat. I'm mellow, melancholy, and I try to cope, and I can only imagine what she will try to do.

Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you, Julia.

Julia, Julia, oceanchild, calls me
So I sing a song of love, Julia
Julia, seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me
So I sing a song of love, Julia.

Her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering
In the sun.

Julia, Julia, morning moon, touch me
So I sing a song of love, Julia.