9:13 p.m.

i was thinking about you and trying to fill in the gaps of the spaces in between. us. there is something there. something kind of beautiful. like magic. grasping to reapply my chapstick, it launched toward the wall. i was thinking of you and lost in that moment.

the pickle.

i would like to tell the cat, please stop looking at me like that, it makes me self conscious.

but she continues to stare like i've done something—big, or that she wants to kill me—bad.

this morning in between the time mandi came upstairs to let gizmo go to the loo, pickles managed to sneak her way downstairs.

the cat will hardly move enough to sneeze throughout the day, yet at the first sign of the daylight basement, she's gone!

i looked at her—lounging underneath the foot of the elliptical—and she gave me that look.

i backed away but realized her eyes were telling me something else. like, fuck you mom, stay here, just don't touch me.

in that moment, i totally understood.

yesterday i was thinking it would be magical to share a bottle of two-buck-chuck at one of those parks. i'll take allergy and sinus meds and you bring a story—to tell, and ponder—underneath the sky.

the tragedy inside myself.

...

after reading my blog from long ago, i realized i certainly haven't changed at all.

but what has changed is that i've lost sight of myself.

two years. that's probably coincidentally how long it's been since i felt connection—with that one girl—who i used to keep tortured inside of me.

she was kind of magical. and brilliant.
and she wasn't at all afraid of asking for a head of lettuce.

i don't care to catch you up with the boring details that have attached to my life like lint. the story is this. i miss you. and i miss the way you made me feel about myself.

i've realized i'm afraid of a lot of things in life. but i'm not afraid of this.

so come beat me or vandalize me and kiss my mouth.
i need it back so i can remember how it felt.
how i felt.

gangsters vs. robots.

it's one-thirty-something in the afternoon and i'm sitting at tully's. this tully's actually irritates me because it's usually super chilly, but i'm hiding out here for reasons relating to april fools day. as in, it's stupid. 

so yesterday the boss's adulterous girlfriend sent an email around telling everyone to wear black as if to play a joke on her man, i mean, the boss. 

me, naturally being the anti-school spirit kind of gal, deleted the email immediately and forgot about it. 

but today, when i walked in, i was greeted by a head-to-toe black-dressed "administrative assistant" and was told i was the only person that wasn't wearing black today. that was fine, and though i was somewhat annoyed, i was more shocked that people listened to oh-whats-her-name. but as the day progressed, literally everyone was wearing black.

wtf. 

so really, while i am actively fearful of becoming something of a pyramid robot, i am more disappointed in all of the others who i thought were true o-g's. guess i was wrong.

so anyway, here i am—drinking my 400 calorie grande caramel macchiato—freezing my ass off in pink.  

oh right, it's thursday.

it's interesting to think about how the smallest details can change so many things. and by the time you realize what's happening, everything is spiraling out of control. 

today was a weird day. and i can't help but wonder what would have happened if that email wasn't sent—if today was just an ordinary thursday. 

friends, decisions, capital letters, loneliness. 

(what if pickles didn't have fur?) 

i wish it all made sense. and my insides weren't turning metallic.andmyreflectionrobotic. 

today i took a mental smoke break outside with george-the-dog. and in mid-throw of the chuck-it, i let my impulses get the best of me. and i realized i need to do that one thing i was scared about last year. 

it's 8:33 p.m. 

when i close my eyes i realize a familiar jingle is on tv—the one that i used to think was annoying, then later put it on my phone as a ringtone—michael says 'pump it' and jim and pam are talking long distance. 

i know it's all going to be okay.

 

page 62.

"i was starting to see it was all pretty much the same thing. lucy and i had ceased to be distinguishable from everyone else and every day the ground was getting softer, swallowing us up a little bit more. we had each come to realize that no one was going to save our lives, and that if we wanted to save them ourselves, we only had one skill that afforded us any hope at all. writing is a job, a talent, but it's also the place to go in your head. it is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon."