i was thinking too much yesterday surfing zha's site, watching how his brain moves, the way his actions are directly related to my dreams. my throat swelled up at work, tears bulging ducts, yet the dam not breaking for i was swallowing hard. i went home just after for lunch and took this out on my husband, being pissed off at him, swelling with anger about everything not right in our life, everything he does or doesn't do. my whole day was thrown off by an hour's worth of reading. i did nothing successfully. i went to class and rolled my eyes at the other students, the way their mouths never stop flapping and how their answers are never clear, how their words are inarticulate and inaccurate, flopping on the linoleum, landing there like rocks in a troubled stomach. i went to the bar and we sat in half-silence for hours, my head bobbing, sleep wanting to consume me there at the table, instead singing along to the pixies and dancing like some sea-going communist ballerina hopped up on no-doze. and i laughed. and i had a good time. trying not to think about myself and being miserable all the time and my chemistry overcoming my catharsis. i tried to think about reaching out of darkness, grasping at hairs of wisdom that say, "there is nothing better in the world than the world." strings of hope that tell me that i am of the world and that i must not be complacent inside myself, stuck here, turning over and over all the things that are the smallest versions of a definition of my outlook; my self. i must admit that i have poetry coursing through my veins and that i am worthy of it. i must fully accept that which i am and challenge those parts of me that i know somehow do not belong. i must fully be who i am allthetime. everyday.

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