Something Brief While I Should Be Studying
Stosbet says she thinks I never loved him. I couldn't if I see my inability to make him happy as a loss. Like the most defiant Princess she insists he is not a prize to be won.
I'm tired of all the conversations I have been having lately. I can't imagine my partners enjoy them anymore.
My mother's head was shaved this morning, July 8, 2017. She told me yesterday that it was coming out in chunks the size of loofahs. She forgot the word, briefly, and called it "that thing you scrub with".
I am attempting to get over you to the detriment of everything else. You're in my lungs. A cut torn and hot red bleeds into every breath so that I spend all my time out of water drowning. My blood is fire. I don't have the time to love you and I don't have the time to love someone new to keep myself from loving you. I know I should want to, but I don't know why. I do know why. Both options seem irrational.
I have midterm in less than 24 hours. It has been over-cast my whole weekend. As well as the knowledge that I am running out of money because I finally got us the tickets to Disney World, and you were upset by that. All we do is upset each other and throw each other's lives off course, it seems. I can't find a good reason why.
There is a red dot on my blinds and I wonder if it is a ladybug. I had one in the house on a bad day recently and it landing on me seemed to bring relief. They're good luck, I think. So a ladybug would be a welcome visitor today. It might just be a splash of paint. Or blood. Who can know without further inspection? I haven't the time for all my current inspection and introspection. I have only the loose brainwaves to wish that it were a ladybug.
I find red is a fixation lately. Latently. I don't like the color. I never have. I prefer cool tones.
I'm tired of all the conversations I have been having lately. I can't imagine my partners enjoy them anymore.
My mother's head was shaved this morning, July 8, 2017. She told me yesterday that it was coming out in chunks the size of loofahs. She forgot the word, briefly, and called it "that thing you scrub with".
I am attempting to get over you to the detriment of everything else. You're in my lungs. A cut torn and hot red bleeds into every breath so that I spend all my time out of water drowning. My blood is fire. I don't have the time to love you and I don't have the time to love someone new to keep myself from loving you. I know I should want to, but I don't know why. I do know why. Both options seem irrational.
I have midterm in less than 24 hours. It has been over-cast my whole weekend. As well as the knowledge that I am running out of money because I finally got us the tickets to Disney World, and you were upset by that. All we do is upset each other and throw each other's lives off course, it seems. I can't find a good reason why.
There is a red dot on my blinds and I wonder if it is a ladybug. I had one in the house on a bad day recently and it landing on me seemed to bring relief. They're good luck, I think. So a ladybug would be a welcome visitor today. It might just be a splash of paint. Or blood. Who can know without further inspection? I haven't the time for all my current inspection and introspection. I have only the loose brainwaves to wish that it were a ladybug.
I find red is a fixation lately. Latently. I don't like the color. I never have. I prefer cool tones.
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