notesinblue: (smoke)
over two weeks.
it feels longer. a sickness that seems to have no end. a body that screams for rest. but i cannot oblige. not yet. i apologize to myself, but get up anyway. day after day i drag my bones away from the rest and warmth they need, and haul them through cold and snow. so i remain ill. i understand. but it's taking its toll. just let me get through another day. another exam. another deadline. just one more. i've been saying that for several days. i'll keep saying it for several more.

two messages.
the number 2 in a red circle. one is an ad for holiday specials. one is a reply. i feel my hand clicking on the page before i can stop it. i'm possessed. a marionette. don't. please stop. don't go there. not today. too late. hearts. joy. and photographs of the man i married on the arm of another. i close LJ feeling betrayed, not by them but by myself. i knew. but i looked anyway. and i'm angry that i still care, even after so many miles behind me. my father tells me i'm only human. my dog thinks otherwise. i eat my eggs unhappily.

i leave the house.
the scraping sound grows worse. it escalates to a grinding. then a thumping calamity. "it's just mud." no. it's not. i climb under the car in the snow. i see the damage. i can see that things are broken. i consider getting back in and driving away. instead i get a screwdriver and pull away chunks of plastic, my hair clotting in the slush. i hope the pieces aren't vital. i throw them in the trunk, stare a moment, and slam the hatch. i drive to class. the grinding is gone. my cough returns.

sitting in Clark.
a nearly forgotten someone. a friend of a friend. a casual acquaintance. but he stops. he speaks. he smiles. he is interested in what i have to say. we talk for long minutes, until classes are looming. he is the only one to speak to me this day aside from my father. but he does say happy valentine's day as he leaves, a grin making his already attractive face radiant. i wonder why i never paid him any mind before. i wonder if i should in the future. i wonder if i should really be paying attention to anyone after everything that has happened.

i take my test.
i'm the first one done. i hesitate before letting go of it. my professor seems startled to see me standing there holding a finished exam. i wonder if i'm in error. i let go of the paper awkwardly and smile even more awkwardly. i like him. i'm his student. but i know he knows my name because he hands back my homework without asking who i am. i realize i'm still standing in front of the desk. i say good-bye, an out of place sentiment given the situation, and gather my coat swiftly. i decide i can't help but pay attention, whether i mean to or not.

crossing College Ave.
snow floats into my open mouth and makes me choke. i pause for a heartbeat. i watch traffic approach. i keep walking, more swiftly. i wonder why sometimes i just stare. i think about Georgia Lass and her bowling pins. i endeavor to be a ball instead of a pin. i smile. i slip on the ice and almost fall. i haven't fallen in years. i decide changing my shape may be more difficult than anticipated. i step carefully but keep walking.

tired but longing for something.
i decide i crave music. so i go to where it lives. aisles and aisles of it. i have no money but i'm thirsty. i pick them up by the fistfuls. i'm in a daze. i need to be quenched. i need to be rejuvenated. my hands are full and my eyes wide. someone asks me if i need help. i say no. i start putting them back. i hesitate. i chose three. something old. something new. and something blue. i borrow nothing. i take it all for myself. i flood my speakers with accents that sound like a home i've never known. then thumping backbeats. and later pianos. pianos feel like home too. even though i've never had one. even though i've never had the pleasure of one.

feed a cold.
my father told me that. and i am cold. i eat soup and eggrolls. i forget i'm in a restaurant on the biggest date night of the year until it begins to become overrun. i remember. i pay my bill. i leave. i drive home in the snow and wonder if i will end up in a ditch, having to walk the rest of the way. the visibility is low and my fever is high. i decide that at least i have leftovers and music to subsist on until rescuers dig me out next spring. i make it home without incident. the fire is cold and the house is dark.

and now i'm out of time.
one five page essay and four one page essays: my midterm exam. and i'm tired. all i want to do is sleep. and i wrote this instead. i wrote this because i had to. not the way i have to do my take home exam. not in the way of obligations, deadlines, and consequences. but in the way you have to write something when your head is full and your heart is a mess. the way you have to when you feel upsidedown. the way you have to when you need to go home, but your house was leveled by a tornado. the way i have to right now. write now.

but i'm going to sleep instead.
right or wrong. write or not. midterm or no. pass or fail. smart or stupid. i just, can't, keep, going. i'm out of gas.


notesinblue: (Default)

January 2013



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