yesterday.
new fabric for new cardigan. !
help ma. lie to ma.
do "nothing"; golden, crunchy nothing and be okay with it.
all of it.
maybe this city can be really beautiful.
i'm a city kid and that makes me giddy.
thrilled.
pulled apart and glued back together by that neon colored elmer's glue from when i was three.
dinner's pasta came in colors not wholly unlike those of the glue.
dinner's pasta came perfect.
i wish to inform you that your kisses are too wet.
but your hands are so warm.
your broken fingernails are full of the dirt and spit that you put into them,
and the skin cells that i contribute.
i can pull my hair out in handfuls.
if we live in a world full of toxins, is my hair still considered organic material?
visit the south side, where i seldom go.
campfire shared with underage kids who got to it first. they smoked cigarettes and drank alcohol out of red plastic cups. they got to sit on the upwind side of their fire.
we passed around bags of gourmet popcorn and a carton of lemonade and our eyes teared up from all the smoke.
a campfire without songs, with few people whom i much care for.
fuckin' facebook-organized, eighth-grade-time-capsule-openin' campfire.
i didn't even put anything in the cardboard box.
i just tagged along and made jokes.
and whispered mean things under my breath.
what a bitch of a former best friend who doesn't care to talk to me.
social butterfly.
you bailed on our high school, you have to give everyone updates.
what college are you going to.
what do you think you're going to study.
hey we totally need to get together, you say,
with jennifer and "frizz," like last summer when we saw grease.
yeah. yeah totally. yeah, right.
my shirt is stained with honey and your enthusiasm is stained with false.
art class. tact class. i'll hug you twice, 'cause girls do that.
some people might have considered this gathering a kind of "closure" on high school.
i'd already had my closure.
a week ago, i went to a graduation party with kids i actually like in attendance.
that was a great evening.
they are people i want to see again.
what i took from last night:
i didn't think i needed to see most of those kids again, and now i'm sure of it.
and my hair still smells like the smoke from the fire.
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