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.
A deliveryperson rang the bell at 7 am. I was expecting them, but I rolled out of bed.
I signed the form and she was gone. As I stepped outside, I couldn’t remember a more beautiful day.
I tiptoed down the step, down the walk, peered down the block and realized I’d worn two layers of clothing all year. All spring, all summer. But now I could feel the air on my skin. I remembered how cool it could be in the morning, that it’s damp and smells like lawn.
I lost myself in this and rubbed my eye – a vague burning sensation from my undereye gel.
I had coffee on the step that morning.
I was getting ready this morning and there was an eyelash hanging from my eye. I picked it up and held it for a moment. What do I wish for? Nothing came to mind, so I dropped it. I must be happy, or at least satisfied.
I woke up this morning and noticed my skinny legs and the hair receding from my hands. I noticed my vaguely unfamiliar face, I instinctively checked my earrings as soon as I woke. The left one was bleeding a little the other night. They’re new and they’re stuck. I tried to unscrew the left one with a set of pliers. No luck. No backsliding.
I woke up and noticed that I’m different and I wondered why. A thought bubble with just a “?” No words, but why are my legs so hairy – It makes no sense. I feel blessed and forgotten at the same time, “here take this.”
I need to pick a surgery soon, to find a regenerative medicine option, to figure out my life. I wish my life came without assembly. It’s like getting an oldschool dollhouse-in-a-box for christmas, what I always wanted, but if I got it I would have been disappointed with my familiarity with glue.