it's nice not to be so alone, but i hold onto secrets in white houses

The butterflies I felt about 2 weeks ago are no longer here. "What was I thinking" had even crossed my mind.

So, what am I doing now? Two a.m. in the wee time, involved in another conversation with the same person I had a convo with two weeks ago. Listening to him unmercifully unload about everything, when I could've watched Ugly Betty rerun or even better, slept?

It's not a crush, and the butterflies aren't coming back. And no, I'm not in denial. In fact, I know exactly why I'm here.

Because I'm a sucker for this. Yes, I'm a sucker for people unloading to me. Listening to people's deepest secrets, fears, and hopes is somewhat... empowering. Dear lord, I'm a trash bin by choice...