right

surprising conversations with people i covet are enough for me to twist in thought. following the lines of their bodies, not meeting their eyes, yet moved by how they react and adapt. the words coming from them, i wonder how they keep their tone steady, unwavering. i am jealous. across the room, across the table. i sit twisting my hair and nodding. trying to talk, but pausing and breaking too much. these people think i have it all figured out. but really i am just in a constant state of want.
[i shake my head to clear it as i walk away]
[it doesn't work]
sometimes painting turns against me. i sit in the hot living room, with the windows open, air pouring in and not helping, radio loud. mostly not even painting, head in my hands, singing to myself. sounds crazy. but it feels so good. i feel alone in the city, the house is still. i walk through the rooms, smelling the other people who live here, my closest friends, comfort. there is water and color everywhere and i just let it dry on my skin. peeling it off gives pleasure.
after the initial enjoyment i wish people were with me. the loneliness comes back. and i get a stomachache.
every which way i can't just have a straight line type of moment.
one second is this, next second i want to go to india. sheesh.
i need to stop with the indulging.
the need.
that strong ugly warm desperate inviting need.
like cancer.

sigh.

what do you do...