Nov 11th, 2011
Sometimes when I walk along the lake I feel like jumping in the water, just to escape the confines of stability. But then when I get in the water all of the things under me make me feel wobbly- like fish shaking their tails and starfish trying to hold on. Wind is better for a day at the beach because then you can find yourself when the undertow takes you down the wormhole of the universe’s aquarium. Why bother leaving the beach? You have everything you need- the surreal, the beauty that lies in the different parallels of the waves, cold and warm at the same time.
Of course in this point in my dream I wake and had a craving for Chinese food, so I called Canada and asked them what’s taking so long. What’s your Chinese food? What’s your baseball? What’s your three dollars extra for books that were meant to be free for even the richest of the rich to read? My sofa has cushions that are new but I feel most comfortable when I get stuck inside them.
My bags are inferior to yours because that is how some perceive them. No one else but me however knows that it’s not the purses that matter; it’s the genes because you’re nothing without family. I don’t get mad when I show off until it gets to the point where I lose control. I don’t lose myself, I lose control. Losing control is the worst because that is when your soul is taken away by the anxiety that comes from the point between what’s in and what’s out, like sitting in tables at the food court waiting for the movie to be over so you can cause trouble. I used to sit at that table, but I was oblivious to the troublemaking, though I wanted to be part of it. Call this innocence or ignorance, but it is the truth.
Where were you on that fateful night? Oh, you were with me. Everyone was looking at me and I was looking at you. But my eyes weren’t in it. They were more concerned with the paint stains on my Duke hoodie that I got at my own thrift shop. You never go to thrift stores even when the ambiguousness invites you. Even when you are offered redemption and soul through the used furniture you refuse it, because you are with me when I’m not with you. Or is the other way around? All I know is that’s why I’m afraid of thrift stores. There furniture is dirty and the sizes of clothes make me want to cry.
McDonalds is only good some days. I often crave what I can’t understand, like a 5-piece chicken tender meal. The fries were once my favorite but now they just taste like baked potatoes. My English major and the dim lights clash on days when papers are due, but on days when I have tests I have nowhere else to go. Perhaps salvation isn’t in food or the energy that comes from this fast food, but instead what the soul does to exercise and stay good. This is where my losing myself needs to evolve. I need to learn to not grow on things like vines. I need to be a sunflower that stands on my own.
*excerpt taken out-
because the ceiling lights reflect amber in the crystal bowls and glasses that are hidden as they are most beautiful when no one can experience them. I’m always afraid one day something will be thrown at them and it will be my fault, but it can’t be my fault when I have no part of you.