I don't smoke cigarettes.

Frozen fingertips clasped around half empty glass bottles, slowly taken to and from my shaking lips.

an addiction.

But only to life and motion, lust and the moment-to-moment, no tomorrow and never say die's, looking up and out and down and in, realizationrealizationrealization.

I don't seem to stop very often these days. It's all a blur of genuine smiles, thoughts I meant to keep to myself that slipped out of my mouth with a sudden decisiveness. A knowing.

but ..

Sometimes sitting in a motionless car watching the snow .... fall ... slow and steady .. like a heartbeat (her heartbeat), listening and moving my lips along because I know it so very well (so much deeper a relation than I ever thought I'd have) .. is inescapable.

It's not that I don't care, it's that it's over and while I'll allow myself these small moments of clarity, white light bloodshot certainty, I already know the only thing that matters. All accidents have solutions. "I'll always blame you." I accept these choices, but they will not make me (not nearly as easily as I made them).

Atrocious grammatic structure.
Hopelessly .... something (or potentially just hopeless).
Happy just existing, for maybe the first time.