because I watched When Harry Met Sally too many times, because the first time you talked to me I thought I knew but I didn’t, because it took more than once to smile at you and mean it, because you grew on me like a cancer, because the night we talked about cancer, because your too different hands reminded me of my father, because there are only three people I loved the moment I saw them, because we are not family, because I didn’t know how to build my own family, because I started to miss you before I left you, because a dream I had where we met and we didn’t speak the same language, because I don’t think we speak the same language, because you didn’t want to fall in love just yet, because I don’t know how to give things up, because this is too good not to be that story, because you told me you didn’t believe in these stories, because I am always trying to prove you wrong, because I still remember the first time I saw you, because all this time, all the time.
As a joke, we say we’re going to write a book
of all the boys
and all the things they said,
the silly things, the sexy things,
the way their voices would shift through telephone lines
and the undertone of text messages
how we know the sarcastic teasing apart from
the serious we-need-to-talk period ellipsis
but as another joke, M says she doesn’t believe
in love anymore than she believes in God,
which is to say not a lot
and K is always waiting or always hurrying
or always telling her mother, don’t worry, this is not the one
except the running book of the one we are still talking about
and it is almost funny because it is not funny
none of this is really funny. Reasons we’re laughing
or the reasons we almost fall in love or why it is so easy
to be friends with someone but loving someone specially,
I mean, why this book almost started off
or why I had to rip that page out of my moleskin
and what is embarrassing, what is too much to say,
what is why we remember certain things, certain names,
certain this is beating this is too much,
what is the forgetting, the slipping through the cracks
the names not in the book
what never made the cut.
Warsan Shire, “34 Excuses For Why We Failed At Love” (via larmoyante)
N’tima (via beatsandbrushes)
This week, I decided that I was going to stop skipping classes and start embracing an intense workload, or create an intense workload. It felt really good for all of three days. And then, one day after I hanging out with my friends here, I stood up and it felt like my spirit was literally dragged down. I was upset and angry and bitter and lonely. There was no reason for this, which made it even worse. So, I spent two days feeling and thinking these bad things, crying alone in my room, and working because at least that made me feel a tiny bit better. But, I also wanted contact and company and my mother and Vivian and Liz and Tracy. I wanted to stop being alone but I couldn’t help that overwhelming realization of loneliness.
Yesterday was still pretty bad and I spent a good portion not feeling like myself and I predicted that the bad mood was going to last the weekend. But at dinner, I managed to feel a lightness settle in, I wanted to laugh more and talk more. I shifted between my friend groups and spent the night with great people, laughing and eating and somehow, I got roped into going to Wellington this weekend, today. I don’t do things like this. I mean, I don’t just decide to go somewhere and I don’t fluctuate in moods so quickly and nothing is happening the way I thought it would, thank god.
Currently, doing laundry and eating an apricot scone from lunch and last year this time I was thinking I had to get away from everything- and this year I am so faraway, I miss everyone and I write vaguely hysterical and comical messages back home. I was rereading the old emails Clare sent me and who were we when we were 15, 16, 17? What could we have predicted except that we would stay friends? Even that, not so much. Sorry I am not making sense, sorry I stay up all night with different friends and then spend an hour watching sitcoms on Youtube, sorry I’ve changed my mind a hundred times about places and people and love and today when I was skyping with my mom, my face froze mid-laughter. I couldn’t tell you what was funny, except that it was.
doing some serious thinking for this summer and this is one of my goals.
for material and budget purposes, could you ‘like’ or ‘reply’ to this post if yes, you would be interested in buying a humble chapbook from me.
MORE DETAILS TO FOLLOW.
This is me in a cow tapestry vest that I bought for five dollars and this is how I am going to wear it when I wear it, like a cross between Claire Huxtable and Beyonce, and when I wear it will probably not be at 9:45 on a Sunday evening, but why isn’t life always Friday night, that is the real question.