unless

i've been writing in a journal nearly everyday

i feel no compulsion to it

other than the routine of opening up that soft yellow book

clicking on the smooth black pen

i never know what to say in that tiny space

unless it rained that day.

i would love to write some incredible insight or some beautiful moment but mostly i want to enjoy my pesky habit of checking on my ex boyfriends online pursuits and then go to bed before my roommate gets home.

(fine there I said it)

so i write that work was good and something about what happened in the evening.

when it rains i write that it rained and that it was lovely

(& guess what reader,

it rained today!)