Significant Things

When I sat down there was this paper on my desk.
I think it was a sign to write.
And I usually write in pen because it doesn't fade and it glides on paper with ease.
But everything eventually fades and not everything comes easily anymore.
So I chose pencil.
And I'm writing about life in a class about society.
But my word shall not be constricted in a particular format or style.
The way 'microeconomics' was squished into this text.
And I'm sitting here thinking about your smile.
While I've forgotten how to make my mouth do the same.
And you seem so happy all the time. And I've forgotten what it feels like.
And you seem to make perfect sense when you speak.
But even my words come out in circles and I rarely think clearly.
And my weeks drag on like my thoughts, forever in a tedious cycle.
Mondays are bad, Tuesdays are sad, and Wednesdays and Thursdays are positively comatose.
But Fridays Saturdays and Sundays aren't too painful.
But I've never been to fond of "goodbye"s and "the end"s.