with one headlight.

I have a half post that very neatly and precisely goes through everything that’s happened in the past two days. Things ive done, encounters ive had, places ive lost, places ive won. But I cant finish it, and I have no real want to blog it, ive been struggling with it for a couple of hours, always leaving it and coming back to it when im bored. Maybe, those words are just not worth it. Or maybe, they just arnt what I want to say right now.

Today was officially getting-over-everything day. The day after the party, two days after the ball- throw in a close friends surprise birthday and thoughts that I shouldn’t be thinking and there you have my life. I woke up mid-afternoon, I still cant fix up my bloody sleep schedule and ive spent the entire day with my dog, the only company that im willing to keep right now. I cleaned my room, made my standard exam time table that ill never follow and have cleared my desk of all my random nothings.

I have a birthday chest that my dads kept for me since I was born. It holds incredibly random things that we threw in every year and now eighteen years on ive been trying to figure out what the hell to put in there. I sat and got together all the college acceptances, that one rejection that I will probably never get over, some birthday cards and a fake Hawaiian flower that all the girls were wearing on my birthday. While getting some stuff together and throwing away random journals that ill never really need, I tended to flip right to the back of all my books, in the search for something more than history notes or economics diagrams. I found millions of things, and I ripped each thing out. Pages of sneaky notes passed while Balloo Maa our beloved history teacher ranted on, or doodles of Ahsanuddin’s head from my view from the third row. Some ironic things, college lists and complaints of how im probably never going to go. And this. I have no idea what this is. Or when I wrote it. I mean, I don’t even understand it.

Tube light memories flicker on and off in yellow mornings and spring flowered days. Insects and humans sting those who choose to remain in the darkness aided by not more than a matchstick, wondering who to light the blame on. Fingers pass through heated bases, our own form of recreation- our little juvenile delight. You know you might get burnt, but you’ve reached a point where you know it really can’t get more painful than it already has.
Ordinary glaringly predictable pastimes reflect on how possibles have just passed you by without a moment of recognition. A time of denial speaks heavy to disdain that feeds on toes of ducks that alter the egos of naked kings.

Man, im so weird. Sometimes reading something like this just reminds me of that fact.

Things like this and the fact that my tailor currently thinks im engaged. He wasn’t going to stitch my ball clothes otherwise and I really had nothing else to wear. Im a great liar it seems, he even asked me to bring him something back from my honeymoon.

Ha.

Have fallen back in love with One Headlight by the Wallflowers, tis truly a fabulous song.

I have exams in less than a month.

Naheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen.