I've been thinking about the future a lot. Well, that's not really surprising. I think about the future all the time, I always have. When I was a kid I would write everything down in these little notebooks that I called "Future Books."
It's Saturday morning here in the Merlin house. My sisters are watching cartoons, my dog is playing with the family's German shepherd, and I'm drinking a cup of coffee I didn't have to pay for. Living here is easy and familiar.
Last night I signed up for a boxing class membership--well, it's a little more than that with all the kickboxing and MMA classes available, too. For the sake of argument, though, I'll just call it boxing.
I've been fiddling around with poetry a lot more these days because, for me, it's a lot easier to write a poem and express myself than it is to write a story or in a journal. Over the next few weeks I imagine I'll be producing quite a bit of it. Thanks in advance for reading!
For most of my life I've written every day. Summers always slump in productivity because I allow myself to bingewatch too much t.v. and eat can upon can of Pringles without feeling too guilty. It's a habit I intend on breaking this summer. Somehow.
I want to meet strangers and learn new customs and do something that puts me out of my comfort zone. All of these things can only add to my writing. Right?
I've been here two full days now. My whole life burnt down to the studs and, almost surprisingly, I'm still here. I did not cease to exist. Am I happy?
Tomorrow morning my father is going to rescue his 23-year-old daughter, something I'm not sure either of us saw ever happening.
On Saturday my five-year relationship ended rather abruptly. It hurt. It still hurts. I hate that person as much as I love them. And yet, despite those feelings, I want him to do well. I want him to succeed. I want him to find himself. But where does that leave me?
So, I've been rocking this whole 9-5 thing for a whole three days now. I gotta say, while it is soul crushing, there are some serious opportunities for poetry. Here's a little bit of found poetry I've thrown together from listening to people in the break room and random pieces of beauty in an otherwise dull space. I hope that doesn't come across as too...I don't know, bougie? I really am just trying to keep my shit together.