clean skin, clean hair, clean clothes.
white sunlight, filtered through thin layers of cloud, brightening the pages of your book.
a soft, cushioned seat, and huge panes of glass separating you and your warm, cheap, delicious food from the evergreen trees and freshly fallen snow.
coming unstuck, and putting pencil to paper.
the full moon is shining so brightly that you could read by it’s sweet blue light.
the pills feel like teeny tiny maracas going down my throat…
ok, who here thinks i should seriously consider permanently switching to de-caf, bearing in mind that i can barely remain conscious before 2pm without caffein, let alone function optimally for my fairly intense classes, but that right now my hands are shaking so badly i can hardly type, and i’m pretty sure that the heartattack that i feel i’m having is simply a manifestation of the anxiety i’ve incurred due to the extra-large 100% colombian i injested during stats? woo, run on sentences eff tee double-yew. but seriously, portion control is an issue i understand, cause everything in moderation and all that junk, i know. but in order to accomodate my pretty impressive tolerance to caffein, and achieve the desired effect (i.e. consciousness) small and medium just don’t seem to cut it, and i opt for the large… so, rock or hard place?
and while we’re at it, a much more personal question: i’m going to change my name. i’m not dropping the sonya, but i am going to change my last name to baser (mum’s name). so my question is, do i just drop the wolski (as was my original intention) or do i keep the wolski as a second last name? if i simply drop the wolski my dad will be pretty heart-broken, but if i keep it, i honestly feel i would be screwing with something very very personal to accomodate someone else. all of our differences aside, i love and respect my dad very much, and i don’t want anything, least of all my identity, to hurt or disrespect him. but, at the same time, what is more intimate than your own name? any takers?
passed out at work today, got sent to the hospital where i spent eight hours in the emergency room.
but everything is ok, cause dave caught me as i fell, my dad came to sit and wait with me, and the doctors did a bunch of tests so that they could tell me over and over that i’m fine. they asked me was i stressed, pregnant, sleeping, eating, drinking, doing drugs, taking meds, allergic, epileptic? i told them that the past few months have been very hard, but the past couple of days have been very easy, and that if anything was going wrong, i didn’t know why it would be happening now…
apparently there’s no real reason. sometimes people just fall down.
just avoid having to do anything…
a little blue pill to make you think in straight lines.
the last few pages of a heartbreakingly beautiful book while the drugs take effect.
reptilian eyes, watching as you lose yourself in the grief of fictional lovers.
a cigarette to calm your racing pulse.
the hot water to wash away the tracks of the cold world left on your skin.
little lives that need your love, because your love is what keeps you from letting them and everything else go.
hope for the future.
i can’t stand letting anyone down, so i end up letting everyone down. overload, freakout, drop all juggled balls, all spinning plates. lather, rinse, repeat till dead.
i have so much to do, as always, and i have to get everything under control before a new semester comes along to crush my soul. i am actually excited about my courses, my degree, which almost makes things worse, because you have so much more to lose when you actually care. i need a vacation, i’m telling you. a REAL one.