some summer

I’m gathering the scraps of paper, flashcards, receipts and travel cards with all the scribbled brief thoughts and they don't fit together. Where do I start?
There was one night where I lost my remote control over what I was doing. He said "maybe you should think about this in the morning" but I wanted to listen to talk or listen to my ipod but it was making too much noise. Though my breathing was louder it was still "a bit selfish". Then tugging on my underwear. What’s selfish? The next morning I tiptoed around but I pressed close on the lift and the doors knocked his keys out of his hands and I watched them fall and slip down the shaft. He couldn't understand why I was crying. He says I should keep thoughts like "I should have just left last night" to myself.

Other allegories are more messy and sore than this. But would involve worn out heels and getting dressed in the dark. Bloodshot stains on my thighs that have faded now. They involve the sickening disappointment at realising the truly superficial nature of elusive characters I was once infatuated with. I’m so indecisive these days. But my vision's back to normal and I can see more clearly than I could weeks ago.

Moving to America has been dwarfed by the fact that my family is dispersing also. I’ll have no home to return to. I’m lost in my living room.