I climbed a hill, I wanted to look down on you.

I am practicing what to say to kyle, it goes something like this:
I don't care if I ever talk to you again. It's not that I don't love you, it's not that I don't want to talk to you ever again, it's that I am physically unable to care anymore. I know that sounds dramatic, and ridiculous, but I'm not doing this again. And in a way, I want to say, I'm not doing this again, as in I'm going to call you and keep calling you as long as I want. But what i mean is, I am not doing this again. I am not letting myself fall madly in love with you to hear you say there's no point, and there's no future for us anyway, so why do we bother? I am so tired of hearing this. Just because you refuse to say I love you, doesn't mean it goes away. Just because you marry the perfect pretty mormon girl doesn't mean she will make you happy.
I can't care if I ever talk to you again. I just, I can't, anymore.

why don't we just do it in the road?

It's funny that this is where I live.

Last weekend I slept in the bed of a boy I've only known for two weeks. What's funny is that it wasn't the first time I slept there, and it wasn't the first time I spent the night, sleeping, with strangers. I'm vaguely sure it will happen again. The problem with being in a half relationship here is that it always feels like everyone is watching. We turned out the light and the light from the windows lit up the whole room. Across the alley, across the street the apartments made a checkerboard of shadowboxes; each with their own doll-like characters wandering around inside of them. It's nice here, he said, well not out there, out there looks like a third world country, but it's not so bad.
He was nice, I guess, from Alabama with no accent. The city makes lines between us, though, and I feel like I am always watching him from across the street, from behind a window where he has become only a figure in a shadowbox, mimicking the things people do in every day life. They wake up. They sit down. They eat. They leave. And then repeat.
The city has sprawled in all directions, like the sun, my cousin said. The first time I ever came to boston, she said, the streets kind of go out like this, kind of like a sun. I've found that to be mostly true, except she didn't mention how it also made it impossible to navigate, like the streets are always moving outwards, like they'll never lead back to each other. Sometimes this is true, and sometimes I wish it wasn't.
Do we use the subjunctive in English?
Is that supposed to be Sometimes I wish it weren't?

National Novel Writing Month begins in less than two weeks. This is good because I can't say I've written anything in about a year. But I don't want to be that kind of ego; I don't want to develop a kind of ring around my head that makes it impossible to get through doors. I suppose I kind of have it already, though, by refusing its growth I'm really just refusing my own. I think I might go for a walk. It's cloudy enough to be pleasant. Soph hasn't been home in two days and I miss her.

I am practicing what to say to Kyle. Here's the thing: I am madly in love with you. It's really all I want to say. But I don't know if it should be said, since we haven't said I love you really since this summer and maybe he just doesn't love me back anymore. I know it happens. One day you wake up and realize the person sleeping next to you is someone you could never live with and then you're out on the street at six a.m., in the rain, running home. I don't expect anything less from anybody, and I thought at the very least you would know to expect it from me, but some people don't and this always proves problematic.

I've learned so far this year that my communication techniques are lacking, and this makes for very unhealthy relationships.