(no subject)
Everything I say feels trite today. I don't want to say things anymore. I don't want to shower. I don't feel dirty. Even though my hair is all messed up and my clothes all holey. I just want to go up to Montana De Oro with a picnic basket and a blanket and lounge on the beach and walk around the cliffs. And look for beautiful pebbles. And I want to roll up my pants and stand in the water until my body stops hurting. And I want to breathe the sweet air and the yellow flowers and thistles and birds and squirrels. And walk around with someone who plays guitar and doesn't think I am attacking them. I wish I could go out in public un-done-up without people imposing some judgment on me. I tested some henna... it turned out well. So now to do my whole head.
How vain to worry that others are going to judge me for not showering. Like they are going to focus their attention on me.
Oh, late-adolescent, anti-establishment angst.
How vain to worry that others are going to judge me for not showering. Like they are going to focus their attention on me.
Oh, late-adolescent, anti-establishment angst.