20th of May

the balmy evening air shouldn’t make me feel alone, but it does

and the quiet lapping of the lake chopping shards of the moon’s reflection should come as a welcoming retreat from the hustle of downtown

but it doesn’t

and i think about the ridges on the sides of people’s tongues

from the imprints of their teeth

and how it’s never quite comfortable sitting where it is

and maybe neither am i.


The sticky thickness of the air outside somehow seeped through the sides of my window. Slowly, the room feels more and more resistant to my movement, and the heat will eventually lull me into dreamless sleep.

I haven’t dreamt in a while. This saddens me because I like updating my journal about them —as odd as they come. Maybe it’s the stress —but what stress is bigger than your subconscious as you sleep?

During the day, the humidity makes me feel like I’m biking through honey, and it does nothing to help my hair. I end up looking like a toy poodle.

I hope it rains soon. I miss seeing unabashed sunshine.

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Dust sits on the shelves of my room, though the books never get covered. I will not lie and say that I read through them frequently, but you’ll find the glue unstuck where I always flip to my favorite parts.

That’s the thing about books. They fall apart while you fall together into your own.

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