it's funny (read: scary) how the days blend together. how you wake up monday morning and go to sleep friday night and can't really remember anything that happened in between. we're a quarter of the way through the semester and i have yet to start anything and how did that even happen? i started a two hundred page book, put it down for a minute, and now it's three days later and i haven't picked it up again. i wrote a blog post this morning, but it was really five days ago. sometimes, the amount of time that falls away without me noticing terrifies me. i feel like i'm drowning in it. i feel like the sand is slipping through the hourglass and falling straight into my chest, weighing me down and making it hard to breathe.
we have a snow day today and i could wax poetic about the beauty of it, but the truth of the matter is, i looked out of my window when i woke up for a minute, just to make sure it was still out there, and that will probably be the last i see of it until it is brown slush melting during the day and freezing during the night. and what's so pretty about that?
i'm in one of those moods where my mind is so far in some fictional world that i don't even know where it is. i don't see what it sees, hear what it hears, or know what it knows. i feel like i'm floating and strangely empty. i can't think about anything because my brain is off having adventures. it doesn't even send me postcards to hang up on my wall. i can't document its journey or live vicariously through it. every postcard it picks up says, "wish you were here," and if it was taught one thing during its stay with me, it's that you should never lie.
we have a snow day today and i could wax poetic about the beauty of it, but the truth of the matter is, i looked out of my window when i woke up for a minute, just to make sure it was still out there, and that will probably be the last i see of it until it is brown slush melting during the day and freezing during the night. and what's so pretty about that?
i'm in one of those moods where my mind is so far in some fictional world that i don't even know where it is. i don't see what it sees, hear what it hears, or know what it knows. i feel like i'm floating and strangely empty. i can't think about anything because my brain is off having adventures. it doesn't even send me postcards to hang up on my wall. i can't document its journey or live vicariously through it. every postcard it picks up says, "wish you were here," and if it was taught one thing during its stay with me, it's that you should never lie.
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