knee-deep in procrastination.
here in, what appears to be
the-condiment-and mustache nation.
ski caps, cigarettes, and the taste of
fermentation.
in the backlit windows up ahead
a girl folds laundry, takes breaks to text.
boo to college.
i’ll write poems instead.
baaaaaaaaaaaaah.
i’m inside-out. all yucky and red and ugly.
like, hey world. here are my innards.
like that exploded bird zach and i walked past in the woods.
ew. i have never felt so filthy as i did after seeing it’s little guts all strewn about and bloated.
sick.
mmmmm i don’t feel well.
on the upside, today in the computer lab, i ran into my friend aline! i haven’t seen her since she left for equador last summer. she is a very amazing and beautiful and intelligent woman. just thought i’d share that.
because for all my bitching, it’s not really that bad.
i’m not quite sure how it’s possible the drop from feeling so ace, and good at what i love, and exploding with knowledge that i want to pass on and discuss and dig into.
and then find myself wrecked and slumped and completely unimportant. you could at least have the courtesty to nod. or respond. or do something.
it’s like when we’re speaking over the phone, and i’m blathering like i do (because i can’t stop) and then i have to look at my cell and see if the call got dropped because there is nothing but silence from across the world, and no confirmation that your phone isn’t just sitting on the counter face-down, while you wait for me to shut up.
here’s the deal-
i don’t know what else to do.
i know i’ve been saying this for a while but…
i’m dry. i’m all cleared out.
every ounce of what was in me is drained.
i am a nomad. and a ghost. and not a part of anything but a part of everything. i want to go to the ocean. and go in it. and be part of that.
because that’s a pretty big body to be within.
tonight i really wanted to feel close to my dad.
i guess i just wanted to remeber how it felt to dance in the living room after pre-school until we were both worn out and giddy.
so i put on the eagles.
it just made me cry.
well, pretty much everything makes me cry these days.
how is that people tell you that it “gets better”, when all that happens is more people you know get sick, fall into debt, lose their minds or die?
i think it’s like what they say about childbirth, only it happens every night when you go to bed-
you forget that it hurts, so you do it again. and again. and you just keep waking up, because
a.) what else are you going to do?
and 2.) you’ve blanked out the hurt.
the problem is, this isn’t trivial shit. this isn’t roommate drama, or boyfriend troubles, or even the fact that i’m up to my ass in ever-growing loans-
this is the biggest question people have been asking since it firt occurred to someone that there is more to the grand sceme than a human lifetime.
so to answer your question, dr. lester-
the reason people keep reading shakespeare is because everyone wants to know the answer to what it is that is the question.
in other news, i don’t have a schedule for work beyond next friday, so i really can’t give specific dates on my free time/ lack there-of.
but i’m flexible. and i work at a restaurant/bar. so, you know….never a dull moment.
xoxo hanna
