SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Sunday, Feb. 02, 2003 @ 10:55 pm
Dad's 57th



I'm numbing myself against it.

No jacket in the cold night, and I'm looking straight down the road letting the dashed lines blink, blink, make me blink. Look not left, not right over the bridge: the perfect dark black waters and distant lighthouses will make you wish for more. Sit at home, finish the crossword, let Mom tell you stories. Eat their food. Eat. Fill up on contented hateful dependence. The couple across the street is pregnant with their 3rd. When did the first one start walking? What happened to all the trees around Earls? When did all the people become so good looking? When did I start noticing how good looking they are?

They're asking me questions about work, and it's hard to explain what I do. I'm telling stories and I realize that they really don't understand. So then they ask about the cows and the sheep. Cows. You know, they are always doing just fine. Sure, there are stories too... but these animals are NOT my life. Not on my mind. I feel condescending. I know nothing about science, really. Don't make me sound like this, like that. Arghhhh.

"We worry about you out there."

Sister's telling me she's in a rut. "Our plans for the summer are dependant on whether you get into vet school. It's frustrating me." My life's shitty for short term plans too. I've gotta move!! You can sit there at home on all your stuff forever... Not that I couldn't... but ... no, I'd go insane.

I work 17hrs one job, 10 hrs other job, and in 4 classes. I wonder why I'm tired. I wonder why I fall asleep at 6pm on sat night and sleep through the Lets Go Clubbing phone calls. I wake up to an mp3 that makes me ache for a summer night lying awake, naked, on top of the covers talking with you. It makes me want to run out in the rain, chase each other through puddles, jumping and splashing each other through. Then it's too open and sore, even though I don't know who you are. So I numb it with journal articles and tutorial assignments.

I flip the channels, actually watching mind numbing tv like Jerry.... and the news.. and over and over they show it fall through the sky. We saw the future when we saw the firey star. It looked just like that, sparking and flaring as burning white pieces trailed off behind it.

Soooon I can barely see it now. Sooooon. Moving away from here. I need to move. This is the longest I've stayed somewhere since September '98. Restless. It's time. But I can't leave the ocean, though, the ocean grounds me.

My old room is painted and rearranged. They put all my remaining random things into a box in the closet. The last few raggad posters got recycled. It's closed, that house. Like Main St and Grant walking away to fuck CA chick, it's just not where I can be again. As much as I'd love to embrace either and blissfully live ignorant to reality... "We worry about you..." and we shove everything that reminds us of you out of sight.

I don't like to be reminded of me either, it's ok. It's never a blessing to be ugly.


Roots | Shoots