Exhausted

The weekend was a salad bowl with emergency hair cuts, interviews, and six inch heels,and salsa and curling tongs and soft whispers that bewildered and confused, and yet tickled at the same time. Juicy phone calls, youthful gossip, online midterms, mulitiple loads of laundry, I begged for morning coffee and painted my toes a frightening shade of red.
I'm so very exhausted.
Happy Week.
*Thank You to my very undeserved support system. I will be thanking you still tomorrow and through the years.

We Love To Live

We don’t love because life is tidy and things are perfect and hearts don’t break. We love despite all these things. We love because life is short and mostly sucks, but there is sometimes a person who makes us happy despite their flaws and our own, who reminds us to breathe, and to smile in the morning, a person who stays up with us when we can’t sleep, who makes boring things like vacuuming fun, a person whose fingers seem to leave traces on our skin of a slight sweet burn. And so ultimately we love to live.
Happy Valentine’s Day Baby.

I'm just saying...

...that I don't understand the shift of priorities. How the thing(s) we once were devoted to, the focus of our energies, what used to drive us, and what certainly felt like the most important thing in the world slowly or suddenly disintegrates into tiny invisible insignificant pieces lost in the piling of a carpet. Forgotten, we tread upon them, our feet rushing off to find this new dream, unaware of tiny forgotten pieces of yesterday.
I don't understand why I can't remember yesterday's morning coffee serenading me into the day, why I stayed up all night typing admission essays. I don't get at all. Why they bother to be a big deal, if they won't be a big deal for long?
I know it is late, and I shouldn't be up whining online because tomorrow when the stupid alarm makes its stupid noise, it won't matter anymore whether or not I get this life at all. Maybe I will get credit for wondering . Perhaps they will forgive me, these forgotten dreams will overlook the crime when, upon my confusion they gaze. Is everything really just another phase?
Because I have had many of those you know.
From respectable to retarded, I've been the queen of phasing. And I hate to throw all these parts of me away, in hurry to find the latest thing to be. Stability is a big illusion. The only reality is confusion.

(logs off and hides under covers)

'A cold wind will blow through your door' -deliciously haunting song I'm very in love with!! Very.