Monday, June 20, 2011

Chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left.

Words floating like the vitreous humor of my brain. I need a new journal.

What am I doing. I'm looking at pretty pictures, and I'm being a girl, and I'm drinking orange juice that I for some reason squeezed myself, and I'm waiting to be able to play Kingdom Hearts, and I'm thinking about how I need to renew my passport today, and I'm wondering how silly it is that things can change so completely in a matter of thoughts and seconds, and I'm contemplating the rest of my life in vocational terms, and I'm wishing I had a job and an income, and I'm wishing my hair was always this straight, and I'm writhing in jealousy and period pains, and I'm regretting the Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, and I'm anticipating eating the rest of the Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, and I want everyone lovely to text me, and I want to use the word comely in a sentence and not because I forced it but because that's how my life is working out, and I'm concerned about how many different things I'm feeling in this moment, and I'm annoyed that I just reread what I've written because now I feel like everything from this sentence forth will be forced and unnatural. I feel like that period was an executive decision that I wasn't ready to make. I wish insecurities were endearing and they didn't drive people away. I wish being a girl and over analyzing and being jealous and needing copious amounts of affection and needing to be ignored and needing security and mystery all at once was something, again, endearing, and not something that can easily be retorted with, "Oh, you're just a girl. This is what girls do."

I want to continue being weird and I want it to be normal.