(no subject)
Madison has been haunting me. Madison, my heart, I need a break. You're being cruel to my heart.
I don't have an ounce of elegance tonight. Elegance, energy, ambition, love- nothing. I don't even want to go to sleep.
In 5 days I'll be riding to New Orleans on a bus filled with strangers. We'll work together and hopefully physical labor will relieve me of this horrible ache.
If I was couragous, I'd write The Letter to my mother. I'd like to write it before I leave and mail it to her while I'm gone. Then, I won't have to face her after she's read my begs and pleas to give me the missing parts of myself.
I feel like molasses- that sick sweetness that envokes a gag reflex, that drowning, that immobility.
I don't have an ounce of elegance tonight. Elegance, energy, ambition, love- nothing. I don't even want to go to sleep.
In 5 days I'll be riding to New Orleans on a bus filled with strangers. We'll work together and hopefully physical labor will relieve me of this horrible ache.
If I was couragous, I'd write The Letter to my mother. I'd like to write it before I leave and mail it to her while I'm gone. Then, I won't have to face her after she's read my begs and pleas to give me the missing parts of myself.
I feel like molasses- that sick sweetness that envokes a gag reflex, that drowning, that immobility.