She never told me, but I knew the way she slept in mango trees
As I struggle with yet another pressure migraine, I think fondly (okay, no so fondly) on the scarce few mornings in which I have woken up hungover already praying for death. So, please enjoy this completely silly poem about being young, drunk, and not knowing what the hell a glass of water is.
With so much time on my hands these days, I reflect a lot. A year ago, I met a young girl who was on the verge of tears every time I saw her. She suffered from intense anxiety, but made herself come to the summer camp where I worked every day for two weeks because she loved writing so much. She was, and continues to be, an inspiration.
After 6 months of hand-wringing, my thesis adviser finally finished my draft. And guess what? It was as bad as I thought it was going to be.
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'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?