(no subject)

[booksonplanes]

there is this girl. she's like this,she lives like this. she takes tiny, probable chances. she takes silently possible jumps. she makes them, she matches everyday. her dresses are always clean, pressed, impressively, impeccably average. she makes things up in her head, her schoolwork is messy. she still remembers the smell of pencilcases, newschoolbooks, fresh starts. she thinks on different levels, answers uneven, results may vary. there are so many pieces to her life that she so badly wants to let lie. she wants to understand the way other people work, in general. she likes the relation she canfeel with anyone, ever. she misses certain friends that remove themselves from her city or her state or her heart and she focuses too much of her time and attention to this, this is a burden of hers. she selfishly wishes things were easier for her, that answers came to her head more quickly and that she could just flat iron the wrinkles that form from the problems that formed from the issues she knows she still struggles with. she often wishes she were one of the characters in one of the books she's read. that one girl that can drift so well, that just sort of sways so perfectly, keeping in time with her memories, holding on to the good ones and dismissing the insultingly wrong ones. it's easier to do in books, i think.
she thinks that it could be her timing. she thinks that her timing is off. she's become cheap, tawdry. but she's got these big plans. she's got dreams that are just sitting back there, to the left of cerebral hemispheres, medulla oblongatas, all neutron-spinning, thalamus glanded together into ideas just waiting to spin out.
she's got musical notes of decisions and she wants harmony.
she;s finally realizing that doors can close as easily as they open.