So Many

Why, ohh why does someone like I
have so many feels?

I am looking forward to... God, I can't even picture it. Sometime soon, I will have a day (an entire fucking day) that I will spend alone, and I will soak up the silence. I will soak up enough silence to last the coming weeks and months. I will soak up so much silence that I will end the day screaming, just to hear noise.

It will be glorious.

I love my people. I love the people who are sucking up my time, devouring it like beasts, making me laugh and cry and feel the feels.

I think I just need to miss them a bit more. Not individually, because they're so spread out, just taking nibbles here and there, I miss them all already - but I just need a few bites of that time to squander. To toss away, frivolously.

One.
One is a recipe for disaster.
A beginning with no end.
(Perhaps a middle.)
Never an end.
One is languid - not for the impatient.
(And I am impatient.)
One is a dangerous drug,
which I crave, but fear.

Legit'

My eyes hurt from crying, but not in a bad way. The kind of crying that I need to release stress and worry, to stop fretting over things I can't control. A catharsis through tears.

And it's almost a full moon. I'm going to blame that for my crazy brain, even though there's no evidence that "lunacy" really exists.

Men really exist. They make me crazy. That's hormones, right? Completely legit'...

Mostly, I'm just feeling in a rut. I need to pop out into an open field and run around a while.

Flesh for Supper

I did not catch this chicken - did not kill it, clean it, nor pluck the feathers from its goospimpled flesh. I did not remove its head and feet. I did not see its blood in the dirt.

I did roast its body, covered in chopped herbs and garlic, slowly in my oven. I ripped its carcass apart, separating out bone, sinew and cartilage - pulling back greasy skin to expose tender white muscle. I collect the flesh to be consumed and dump the bones into a pot to be boiled for stock.

My hands are covered in the animal's fat and flecks of flesh. I feel like a barbarian. I have destroyed this small body, cracked ribs, pulled the bones from their sockets, ripped muscles out to be eaten. I scrub my hands with dish soap, removing the grease and cleaning the bits of meat from beneath my fingernails. I have conquered this avian corpse.

What Exactly...

Everything is so damn confusing. Including my life. I love my life - I really do... But I don't understand it. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, what I'm doing wrong. All I do know is that I am happy where I live, happy with my sweet daughter, happy with the awesome friends I have. I could use more friends. I could use a little romance - but I'll get there. If I don't give up, I'll get there.

I'm also really anxious to see if I can go back to school next year. It's just a one-year program, but it's a one-year program I really want to do, and feel like I need to do. I should know this month about the financial situation. Fingers crossed.

Now, I need to make some art. Thinking paints - but words might work, too.