blushes

I'm putting water in a glass jar and keeping it by my bedside every night. I'm waking up tomorrow morning and fixing a breakfast with quinoa, potato, baby peppers, garlic and carrots. Every day for as long as I can see will be so wrought with meager meals and more fat shedding off my bones to the point where I am afraid to weigh myself. Ah, the wonders of unintentional dieting. Yeah, and there's a reason why I'm not ordering that 15 dollar delivered burnt pizza anymore. I want to wake out of this barely enough hours and barely enough time to dedicate to school coma and have a moment where I am full and not thinking about how much money I will make off of my belongings when I move out of this apartment in August. There is nothing more depressing than admitting a semi defeat. There is nothing more exciting than admitting defeat.

My life will be different then. I will be done with school after six years. The one thing that has been holding me back will be over, allowing there to be a void for something else to fill it. Something that I will not have chosen based on pre-formed plans or others' desires. But who knows, I'll strike down that new thing with anger ten years from now and we will repeat the process all over again. I'll trap myself and free myself into another deluded lasso.

What if I don't want that? I can see a future that isn't this endless cycle of nihilistic possibility. I'm a romantic, enough to get to this point. Enough to be so utterly disappointed that it took only magic to snap me out of it. I am smart enough to know that everything I have been taught to do won't make me happy and that it is possible to achieve something different, something genuine, something that is special. But I have to believe in it. I have to find what it is I want to believe in, the thing that seems right, and then believe in it. If it proves itself wrong it isn't right. Maybe if I take the poetically opposite version of November gloom and do something with it (no matter how ridiculous) I can make sense of this corny garbage I am writing at this very moment.

Or maybe I should just read more poetry and go to sleep. Maybe I should night dream about my boyfriend. Maybe I should quit chewing my nails again. What part of me should I listen to now? Which phase is this. I meant that as a statement.