sometimes it isn’t daycare

Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour where the countryside turns white,
I will leave. You see, I know that you wait for me.
I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain.
I cannot stay far from you any longer.

I will walk, the eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Without seeing anything outside, without hearing any sound,
Alone, unknown, the curved back, the crossed hands,
Sad, and for me the day will be like the night.

I will not watch the gold of the evening that falls,
Nor the sails that far away descend towards Harfleur,
And when I arrive, I will place on your tomb
A bouquet of green ivy and of flowering herbs.

Boggy ears, swollen tissue, no bloodflow to my brain

It’s a dizzying sensation. French work makes my eyes ache. The rest of me aches…is so much blood diverted to my nose that the rest of me is out of order? Do I hurt because I’m bloodless? If you cut me, will I bleed?

Also, my nose is cold. I don’t understand how this is possible. My toes, perhaps, but my swollen nose? My hair is unruly and my head is still spinning.

Too much, with French and with History and with Physics.

How long till the seventh?

revival; won’t you revive me?

Spring is back and I’m secretly swooning. I only wish it was the other spring crush that had come back, because then I could fix a handful of things at once. As it is, I’m idle.

I’m also full of fall feelings, mostly the loneliness. The aching kind, the kind that makes me afraid to go to bed because of the moments-minutes-hours before falling asleep and the way I know I’ll want to cry. The fetal position and the wanting of somebody-almostanybody to be beside me. The overwhelming fear of nightmares and insomnia and waking up with tears on my face, in my ears, in my hair.

I want the weather to warm up sooner and faster so I can escape into the air, the air and the grass and the trees that are almost as good as people, in the dark.

I am longing for a soft boy to hold me.

“Real amontillado is sunshine and orange groves – it’s the Mediterranean and blue moonlight and – love?”

I love this play. It means a million things to me and I know that she will do it well, but I can’t help but think everything about it is wrong. His un-p.c. casting has reached a new level, where it doesn’t. make. sense. And there were a handful of better ways to cast it that would still have respected seniority while also respecting the characters.

Really I’m just bitter. I want to grow up and be talented and perfect and beautiful like henna-head and the Writer. But right now, I am a child. I will contribute, of course, almost as much, because everyone is triple-casted so there really truly are no small parts, you’d have to be a small actor to feel useless. And I will love the play and do the best I can about Adding Clerk and her strings of numbers and Boy with Man and his being-seduced (ironically enough, by the awkward sexually repressed girlchild. Will this work?) and First Reporter and his frantic scribbling. Perhaps on the sidelines I will continue to nurse my tiny crush because she’ll be onstage the whole time, so why not? Nothing better to do.

Nine. Oh god, there are only nine.

My heart is bursting and I am so so terribly excited.

i’m so tired i can’t sleep

after less than three hours, i woke up exhausted. now it’s almost three a.m. in nine minutes, i will have been awake an hour.

i dreamt about poetry, performing it, making it into something wonderful. not just mine. cherry’s, and a boy’s, and someone else’s, too.

i couldn’t figure out why i woke up. i was warm and dried out so i tried that, two glasses of cold water and an icy washcloth on my face, lotion on my arms and peeling sunburn, but it didn’t take.

i’m eating a pita now so i can’t capitalize. the problem was that i hadn’t eaten anything. hopefully this will work. hopefully i will sleep enough to say i did, to be better and awake.

friday is a big day, for some reason i can feel this.

by the way

I am still listening to my music, still trembly. I’m not just ticklish, I’m not just caving in on myself to giggle. I am not closing my eyes against the cold, standing still against time. I am still needing this yet somehow I feel like it perpetuates the damage at hand.

“she’s gonna break soon”
“pennyroyal tea”
“go”
“end over end”
“don’t let me down”
“shameless”
“losing grip”
“scotty doesn’t know”
“sugar free”
“bad reputation”
“a better place, a better time”

They’re gonna wanna know how we got in here, and they’re gonna wanna know how we plan to get out.
Troublesome. It’s troublesome. Or troubling. Trouble.