maintenant, je suis sous l’influence d’adderall. je prévois de ne pas dormir cette nuit afin de finir toutes les tâches qu’il faut que je complète. alors:
-d’abord, je fini de nettoyer la cuisine.
-puis, je me douche, car je sens comme le curry.
-ensuite, j’épile mes sourcils. ils sont tellement hors de contrôle.
-puis je commence à multitâcher: 1. je vernis mes ongles et 2. j’écris mon papier de français (c’est vraiment la raison pour laquelle j’ai pris l’adderall et que je ne dors pas ce soir. peu importe que je me toilette au même temps que je le fais).
-puis peut être je fume une cigarette de girofle, comme ça fais longtemps et j’ai envie.
-ensuite j’étudie pour mon examen de l’histoire d’art qui est demain.
-enfin, si j’ai toujours de l’énergie et pas envie de dormir, j’étudie les maths.
à quelque point, j’écris dans mon journal car j’ai tellement de pensée dans la tête.
hop! on y va.
seeing you walk towards me in Victoria Station. i remember what we were both wearing. i was shaking and your lips and fingers were cold. we were so exhilarated.
watching you walk away down Cass Avenue, livid. i remember what we were both wearing. your fists were stuffed into your pockets, and you didn’t look back, even as you crossed the street.
you were wearing a reds-plaid button down, open over a t-shirt, i think, and those slim old navy jeans. you had a black jacket tied around your waist, and your huge backpacking backpack strapped on. you looked small to me, so far off in the distance, until you were towering over me. i wore a dress with black tights, ankle boots, and long-sleeved tee. i had been pacing the waiting room for forty five minutes.
you had been at work, so you still had on your khakis, with that old reebock hoodie, navy with red writing. i wore my black maxi dress, pale pink sweater, lilac scarf, and lace earrings. it was the same outfit i had worn to the condo that time we almost broke up early in the summer. you asked for a cigarette, and we maintained stiff, intermittent small talk as we smoked cloves. you knew what was coming.
i had been so nervous about this moment, wary of awkwardness trying to hug you around that backpack was, but we held each other, tense with excitement. then we kissed. it was hungry, somewhat unsure, but triumphant. ignorant of the people around us. relieved.
we sat, side by side on the steps of that abandoned house, but a few feet apart, symbolic of our emotional distance. it was cool, beautiful fall nighttime. you didn’t understand, i did a bad job of explaining. i couldn’t find the words, you were stubborn and angry.
february in london. it was cold, biting breezes blowing down the streets. hand in hand, we walked to the tube. our conversation was light and travel-related. my heart had left my chest and was floating up past the trees and into the sky.
my eyes were clouded with tears, and you asked me to look you in the eye, since i owed that to you. i couldn’t. i shouted angrily after you, “i still love you!” but it was clenched, and i don’t think you heard me, because you were too far away. now, i seek my own closure.
we have been meeting eyes accidentally and immediately dropping the gaze all night. it had been a while since i had seen him - he looked good, a little buffer, and was wearing a red-tones plaid shirt i didn’t recognize. it was obvious that we were each on the other one’s mind. finally, i waited at the door for the others, ready to leave. he comes down the hall. our eyes lock, but this time, we don’t look away. he approaches, and wraps his arms around me, holding me like he used to. my arms find their way around him, and i hear him say, “we’ll talk when i get back from my trip.”
thanks for that little gem, subconscious.
our youth hostel in Strasbourg, France
the truth is, i’m in love with a boy who lives on a different continent than me. and it’s something i think about every day.
