I’m dry and wondering where it all leads me to.
Is there any destination, in mind or off the charts?
I question the ambiguities of lost of life or rather the chance that all will get better soon.
Said so many times as a kid, and they were right.
With time, maturity, and fine aging; it all gets better.
Too many a scar that time healed.
I’m grateful and resourceful.
I drank day old iced coffee that still had these delicious, slushie-like shards of ice in it and it made me think my laziness or depression was like fermentation.
I think maturity is like fermentation. More kimchi than balsamic vinegar [if balsamic is even fermented, I can’t remember but it tastes that way]
Today,
I feel foreign on the keys and don’t know what to write about.
I was supposed to write a second chapter by now, but it just hasn’t been hitting me.
The fear I’ll abandon it, or get ready with fearsome attitude to acknowledge it means I’m cheating the game. My personal hustle against myself.
I think I’m getting sick. I had the most terrible ache in my scratchy throat last night in the a.m..
I’m hungry and don’t want to keep ordering food.
…
I ended up making an air fryer meal of frozen chicken tenders and fries.
They’re get so gross and gooey on one side of you don’t flip them, the batter; but if you are, my boi are you in for a treat B).
I’m so consistently tired. My mom keeps saying I shouldn’t sleep all day and Im so tired, I don’t wanna argue that that’s not all I do.
“There will be sunshine…” my music going on, a Snoh Aalegra song.
I’ll take any encouragement I can get.
I had some weird dreams and they made me feel so disconnected.
Rolling in gasps, overheated mangled in the blankets and getting tangled in my long hair feeling like I was suffocating. I had to open the window even though it was freezing.
Oh look the foods done.
Never mind.
The plates never change at dinner.
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