rustic

Things that don't age well:

Gloating over other people is not nice. But it's fun. When I see a person who broke my heart ten years ago, fat old and married, I can't help but laugh, relieved.

The Internet makes the world into a huge pocket. There is so much information about so many people, a finger tap away. Not me, however. It seems I have done very little of note. I like my solitude and dislike interruptions: mon plume-de-nom me cache.

I was nicely wrapped in my many blankets last night, when my phone rang. No I don't want to go drink beer, I need sleep; it was 7:45. Much later, deep into the early hours of dawn, I woke. The air had changed, it was thick and fresh, I heard an owl. I fell back to sleep and missed my alarm.

The world, so fast and full and I contribute by needing to be places. I left late for school (above mentioned missed alarm), missing my first class. The perennial headache behind my right eye, a reminder to get glasses. I hope glasses are all I need. I have been losing hair in handfuls. I become paranoid. I fear I am sick sick sick. The sleep, the hair, the headaches, all contribute to a sense of panic. I attribute all of it to stress, the need to be someplace seven minutes ago. The racing heart is from the caffeine. The headaches are from dehydration, it's so hard to drink fluids when it's raining. Push harder, swim upstream, and don't ever get sick. That's a crap mantra and I will get sick if I damn well please.