(no subject)
On Monday I let Nick interpret my dream about the monster in my head.
On Tuesday I can't remember anything that happened.
On Wednesday I made butternut squash, bought cinnamon, and wore a grey sweater.
On Thursday I broke into Michael's apartment because he left a candle burning.
On Friday I went the whole day without realizing my left breast was half-exposed.
On Saturday I chewed a whole pack of bubblegum by myself.
On Sunday I said the word marmalade and it made me very happy.
On Monday I hid in the bathroom for 10 minutes and drew stick people in lipstick on the mirror.
On Tuesday I ate cotton candy and wrote many letters that you will never read.
My fall clothes smell like attic and my fingers smell like espresso. On the way here, I tried to get as close to as many tractor trailers as possible. My body lets me know that I have a tendency to get anxious over smaller matters. Before this week ends I want to carve a pumpkin and make apple pie. I get so upset sometimes, when I go in the grocery store and can't afford to buy fresh flowers everyday. I think I will know that everything will be okay when I can purchase roses in each morning and set them on the table before I have my first cup of tea. Everyone in the world is in such a rush and I feel almost as if my eyeballs could just about pop out of my skull and roll under this desk. I ask myself why I felt so completed last year and then I remember that I was only working twenty hours a week. That was back when I could start and finish a book in one day. That was back when checks didn't mean anything and all that mattered was if I got above a ninety on my physics test. I couldn't separate math problems from the poetry I would write in the margins of my textbooks. People let themselves get all wound up and I can almost calculate to the minute when they will snap and tell me that they need to go smoke a cigarette. Being in a place that chaotic is so amazing because I can physically feel my body centering itself. I think my brain shifts gears and slowly starts thinking more logically. It's mechanical and reminds me of my reaction to death. I think that when we live our lives in a place of anxiety and stress we are breathing with the help of a machine. There's no life in it.