2003-03-19
10:20 a.m.
your brought some flowers with you
yes, back. no more whispery air; here it the wind screams things like FUCK YOU AND YOUR FRECKLES while it tries to scrape them off my nose. but there are daffodils imprinted on my eyes, with magnolia trees in bloom. my ears are ringing with stories of ireland in the 30s, of my grandmothers in their 20s, of my grandfather in the azures fixing planes and losing his hearing. giggled with cousins. now I'm scared to death of what I have to do. it's relentless, and it's guilt, and I wonder whether I should just have kids and make myself grow up. I held Zoe on my three-hour stopover in Toronto, and I crawled on a restaurant floor with her big-by-comparison brother. cause college is over soon, and WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO THEN? I'm torn between running somewhere new (where the biggest accomplishment can be being there and it doesn't matter what job I have) and running home (where I curl up in the arms of my family and sleep it off). the smells will fold around your fear
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