black heads

after coming home from a loving afternoon with my former roommate i have realized after a depressing movie about lost love and connection that i have to buy pore strips at duane reade before tomorrow morning. being that tomorrow morning i need to look my best, as my grandmother stated "you have to look like you walked out of your park avenue apartment and got dropped off by your personal car service rather than the A C or E train." i am currently wearing one on my nose at the moment.

while on my commute home i was pondering.

pondering about how not much makes sense until it is defined, yet defining it isn't necessarily the actual meaning. as another night rolled around where i was in a state of strange consequence all i could think of was how at peace i was for not yelling at myself every minute, or picking the situation apart every second. is that why i find it a comfort? of that that isn't formally what is right in the thoughts of the past as well as the current thoughts of others.

all i know is whenever comfort leaves i tend to feel a dissociation within myself. 

the paper cut out of the night has been forgotten. 

let's roll around and see how long it takes until it's realized.