I have so much I want to write about this week and this quarter and my life and the nonsense that is going on inside my head all the time, but I don't have words. I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom, in front of these mirrors I've been staring in since I was eight. Rocking out to the National, I'm surrounded by books and manuscripts and notes and planners and prayer beads and cat hair.
I am in so far over my head this quarter. Drowning has never been quite so delightful.
Because this is what I meant when I was talking to the you who lives in my head on the way up the hill, when I was speaking aloud and the girl walking behind me probably now thinks that a basket case lives in her building...
No comments:
Post a Comment