a brief history of the unexpected
i sat idle on a mountain for months, camped out alone, too busy doing nothing to think about the somethings that riddled me with guilt. through an alcoholic haze i could see the city smiling, occassionally, i smiled back. and then one night while i slept securely wrapped in black and hot pink nylon threads, i rolled over the side, and awoke to find the ground rushing up to greet me with dusty arms. splat. it kissed me and tasted like stale cigarettes.
and now i've been lying face down in crumbled dirt for days. i rarely turn problems into problems, but these i just couldn't figure out hot to fix. i cried for four days, ending once and for all my record of having not shed a tear since the day i left Logan in Montreal last summer, and putting to rest the notion that i only cry when im in love. i tried to crawl into the drawers under my bed so i could curl up in the dark and pretend that i had never existed, but my two teddy bears that i've secretly rescued from garage stored boxes and hidden away at college pleaded at me with their button eyes not to store myself away like some fluff-filled inanimate being. but i was. so i went to the dorms and wandered in and out of people's rooms staring at them cold with button eyes, barely seeing beyond the half-filled wine bottles that lay around. it was the most emotionally exhausting weekend since...
so in order to deal with the first day i went to the city. and there i met up with some girls from film class, and we drank and we talked and we listened to bands, and we changed venues and we drank and they left and i drank and talked to boys and girls and anyone around. and i met a boy and we smoked, and we drank, and we changed venues again, and we wandered the city at 4 am and i went home with him. and though i realize that he means two random hook-ups in the last month, there was nothing i needed more on what seemed to be one of the hardest days of my life than to be fucked and held and coddled. and it worked. saturday brought me a little more perspective, though very briefly.
and now here i am on tuesday, and things are getting slightly within my control again. my computer is nearly back to normal and ive decided that i will not accept this shit from Rafi, my film prof, without fighting him first. i refuse to leave these bombed out paranoic portables they call classrooms without getting what i came for. however, if i fail to reassure myself of who i used to be before i entered into the deplorable world of residence life that induced such a failure to compute, im afraid of further self-destruction. instead of simply lying weakly in the dirt ill be furiously trying to dig into black brown sludge. i just want to be able to get up and walk around.
and now i've been lying face down in crumbled dirt for days. i rarely turn problems into problems, but these i just couldn't figure out hot to fix. i cried for four days, ending once and for all my record of having not shed a tear since the day i left Logan in Montreal last summer, and putting to rest the notion that i only cry when im in love. i tried to crawl into the drawers under my bed so i could curl up in the dark and pretend that i had never existed, but my two teddy bears that i've secretly rescued from garage stored boxes and hidden away at college pleaded at me with their button eyes not to store myself away like some fluff-filled inanimate being. but i was. so i went to the dorms and wandered in and out of people's rooms staring at them cold with button eyes, barely seeing beyond the half-filled wine bottles that lay around. it was the most emotionally exhausting weekend since...
so in order to deal with the first day i went to the city. and there i met up with some girls from film class, and we drank and we talked and we listened to bands, and we changed venues and we drank and they left and i drank and talked to boys and girls and anyone around. and i met a boy and we smoked, and we drank, and we changed venues again, and we wandered the city at 4 am and i went home with him. and though i realize that he means two random hook-ups in the last month, there was nothing i needed more on what seemed to be one of the hardest days of my life than to be fucked and held and coddled. and it worked. saturday brought me a little more perspective, though very briefly.
and now here i am on tuesday, and things are getting slightly within my control again. my computer is nearly back to normal and ive decided that i will not accept this shit from Rafi, my film prof, without fighting him first. i refuse to leave these bombed out paranoic portables they call classrooms without getting what i came for. however, if i fail to reassure myself of who i used to be before i entered into the deplorable world of residence life that induced such a failure to compute, im afraid of further self-destruction. instead of simply lying weakly in the dirt ill be furiously trying to dig into black brown sludge. i just want to be able to get up and walk around.