(no subject)
Negation is underway. I'm playing footsy with oblivion, watching my toes disappear in velvety soup.
Quit smoking.
Not entirely.
It's not even been a week yet. It's been hard.
I've been thinking of going on a fast, but I love cheese much too much to do that to myself.
But I am feeling too heavy. Too held back. Stuck in the mud (fat, chocolate, cheese).
Joining a gym. Good luck to myself I say.
I am on a break from my man.
I miss him, I love him but the thought of being around him makes me agitated.
I itch. I hunger and I want to smoke.
Being broke doesn't help/hurt.
Maybe something might happen.
I do feel sorta trapped in this city.
It's because I want it so much.
That I'll do whatever it takes to be here, to get it.
But I want more than the city can give me, or maybe not more, but something different.
I bit more space, a bit more green, a bit more closeness.
To not hear my neighbor cough.
To feed a cat and read with it in my lap.
I wake up in my bed often now thinking I'm living someone else's adult life. My adult life has been marked by the removal of paper, of images, from my walls.
The death of celebrity - the vision gone. My maturity is something white. Reflective. Sparse.
It's like I'm asking for it.
To cover the walls in filth.
Something blank is like a victim, she asked for it.
I victimize myself by becoming immobile.
Which is why I love New York.
It gives me the freedom to be poor, to put things on hold.
Graduate school does that too.
Obviously things need to change. Things are changing. I am a little cooler. A little dryer.
I want to be hot and wet.
When will that be?
Quit smoking.
Not entirely.
It's not even been a week yet. It's been hard.
I've been thinking of going on a fast, but I love cheese much too much to do that to myself.
But I am feeling too heavy. Too held back. Stuck in the mud (fat, chocolate, cheese).
Joining a gym. Good luck to myself I say.
I am on a break from my man.
I miss him, I love him but the thought of being around him makes me agitated.
I itch. I hunger and I want to smoke.
Being broke doesn't help/hurt.
Maybe something might happen.
I do feel sorta trapped in this city.
It's because I want it so much.
That I'll do whatever it takes to be here, to get it.
But I want more than the city can give me, or maybe not more, but something different.
I bit more space, a bit more green, a bit more closeness.
To not hear my neighbor cough.
To feed a cat and read with it in my lap.
I wake up in my bed often now thinking I'm living someone else's adult life. My adult life has been marked by the removal of paper, of images, from my walls.
The death of celebrity - the vision gone. My maturity is something white. Reflective. Sparse.
It's like I'm asking for it.
To cover the walls in filth.
Something blank is like a victim, she asked for it.
I victimize myself by becoming immobile.
Which is why I love New York.
It gives me the freedom to be poor, to put things on hold.
Graduate school does that too.
Obviously things need to change. Things are changing. I am a little cooler. A little dryer.
I want to be hot and wet.
When will that be?