Thursday

I am, at the moment, eating macaroni and cheese and crying. Its been one of those weeks. Like, do you ever feel like all of your childhood friends are getting married while you are getting used for sex, over and over? Do you ever come home from counseling to find your mother still in her slip, talking maniacally on the phone, while you yourself are trying to resolve not to give her all your school money, and/or yell at her to get a fucking job already? Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a life, a certain kind of life, while other people are not? I mean, what kind of a guy talks to you every day for a month, and then as soon as you sleep with him is never to be heard from again?
Okay, enough with the complaints. At least I'm taking baby steps. At least I did talk to this guy for that long. At least he doesn't have a girlfriend. Other than those two small, almost fetus-like steps, that situation completely blows.
And its my own fault for not being able to deal with this house. My mom can take the heat. She can take it. I can give it to her. I'm just mad at my mom. Big Fucking Deal. I'm just having an emotion. I can handle that.
The weird, sporadic-breathing-sobbing thing felt pretty good, though. And its been a while since I've had some mac and cheese. It kind of makes you want to puke when you take huge bites without swallowing. Just FYI.
AND I have successfully not drunk the tall boy I found in my car.

getting dumped. again.

exactly what it looks like

pushing dirty mop water 

around the floor

so that when you walk in tomorrow morning

all you will notice is the chairs 

out of place

it gets later and later

and i haven't gone running

and thats it!

i will never speak to him again

just

like 

that.

I will analyze everything

and try to pull some playing cards

from the stringy, flesh-lined gap

i will try to make a perfect poached chicken

from moments of raw onion and cold fat

I will try, my very damndest

not to call or text 

because it is all

very clear. 

it was all said.

don't act like

you are confused

because you're not. 

he is, and if you think you can get something

out of his confusion

with just a little deception

just a tiny bit

of a fine guilt sauce

over a bed of fluffy, delicate manipulation

please write your giddy love stench off

as something not worth all the sweat.