Yesterday I wrote a lot. I erased it. I wrote again, erased again. Erased, erased. I deleted the whole file eventually… made some checklists. Walked to the store for some groceries; I think pop tarts look good on me.
I walked and chose to forget, almost everything, except some things I enjoy. Convinced myself that seriousness is for losers. I wish I could depend on this feeling.
Because I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes. I hate that.
So I showered and cleaned myself and chose to forget, again. Apparently it’s an iterative thing.
I wish I could have slept, but it seems worthwhile in my crisp shirt and comfy thrift store skirt.
Also, the hardware on my face draws my attention away from my facial hair, because I’m the only one who cares about my facial hair.
I told the piercer I’ve had worse.