Your kind of sentence

I say I dislike everyone lately and then I realize it's not really everyone but those I don't know very well. The ones I know well I like well enough.

I couldn't write more than four lines (besides the drafted e-mail with Flo) tonight because I need to connect. I need to talk to someone. Nothing is wrong. I want the satisfaction of conversation that moves seamlessly through the hours. That's your kind of sentence, I think.

I need someone to say, "This is where you should send it to" or "Let me help you in finding such a place." But yet I feel disjointed. I worry because I'm there one less day, and who knows what could happen in one less day for fourteen (now twelve?) weeks. Perhaps they'll need one less of me. I wonder about my priorities. How do I reconcile all of these things that matter? Do I dare to call them dreams?