It's warm here. An early, false spring that causes the trees to bud in February. My focus is waning as I count down the weeks left in the term: three, then finals. I am chewing gum and drinking cold brew coffee as I study statistics. I am surprisingly good at stats, especially as I haven't done math in years.
I've been sober now for almost two months. Sober off of booze that is. My brain is still forcibly full of addictive thoughts. What I know is that I tend to fall for people who are borderline manic, full of vitality and dreams. I know this: I fall in love in a moment, with a smell, with the sliver of a dream. I wish: I understood how people work into my heart; I could turn the feels from the intransigent slip of the mind into a concrete structure of daily life.
The space around me impenetrable, I am such a bitch these days. Yet chinks in the chimera allow glimpses of me to be captured, briefly at the top of an inhale.
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