4 Minutes

-Can I have a horchata please?
-No.

In A Real Way

Something happened today. Well...something happens everyday, but this was something that really drove me up the wall. I'd like to think I'd be someone who can cope in stressful situations if a stressful situation called for coping...but I very well may be that person flailing into the dark when there is an emergency in progress. I don't know, being responsible can be hard. Sometimes I just don't want to be. I want to not care and have nobody notice. This thing by the by was me losing my wallet. It was actually one of the scariest feelings I've ever felt. I truly saw myself in a moment and how vulnerable I felt. The only part of the whole thing that I liked was how I quickly just accepted it. I got over it and said, "Well now what?" Still though, I realized how easy it is to get so caught up in superficial problems. I wish I wasn't so vain. And I mean that. I can be narcistic and proud to the fullest potential of their definitions, but that doesn't bother me as much as vanity does. There's just some thing kind of dirty about its connotation. Anyways, it made me feel vain. Like this problem was of ridiculous merit. It isn't though. Things just are and will keep happening. This idea is so nice. It makes things feel like oblongs of soft colors in a rainy park. Like someone who tips their hat to you and cheers to your health. Like your walls are your favorite paintings and the floor a game of checkers your winning. It's so easy to make things easy. It's just a matter of doing it. Watch me. You'll know it by smile and happy tune in my mouth.

The Masochistic Pomegranate

Pomegranates are my favorite fruit to eat. There are at least one hundred kernels inside one pomegranate. I don't know, there's something to the idea of a plethora of options but the security of one outcome. One bittersweet morsel to chew and devour... Then there's something to the idea of the remains of the shell. A jagged desolate of nothing to prove or represent. Completely stripped and only a nakedness remains. Then the color. Red red red red red red so red. It's so red that even my mother had always warned me growing up,
"Don't wear your nice dress while you eat that please. It'll stain."
And so I wore my torn and tattered things. There was a sense of destruction that it could do to me. Then there was the sense of its defeat. Eating a pomegranate is me at my most sadistic. I love the mess it makes and how utterly unlike it was before. Eating a pomegrante is me at my most turned on. I love the sweet fragrance in my nose and the taste upon my lips. Lick lick lick lick lick lick. It lingers in my mouth and I long for its texture and turnabout among the space between my cheeks.
Mmm...mmhm.

Time Today

He said it goes that way in that other place you go. It's something that is unusual, but commonplace to those that see it in practice every day. It does not interest me and this is no matter of importance. My ears are ringing, my throat is dry, my belly full and my eyes are heavy. The phyiscal decay of my body is something kind of funny. In spite of these things, life is filled to the brim of my life cup. It overflows and the foam of something sweet makes my surroundings sticky. There are these things that escape me and leave me wondering what some people intend for others. People are silly. There are so many people I know and so many more I don't. I wonder how many of them are the same kind of person... That sense of originality always intrigues me, but I wonder if it's truly something I'll see very often. I think I do. I hope I do. It scares me a little. No. A lot. I'm happy but why does it bother me so. There's something crawling under my skin. I need a bottle of Raid. Or surgery.

This Thing

This thing upon my shoulders, I need to hold it tight. It would be a silly thing to let it go, but I don't know that I ever will. This thing is so simply the cause of so much to my being. It is not nearly as well as you imagine it to be. Wellness and goodness come from my heart and are stifled by this thing, but it may not be in so many words. However, these words lack substance and mean nothing to you. But this thing is so heavy and means so much to me. I hate it. It hurts and holds my soul in its palm and guides it. I want it so bad to stop and reflect on the things it has done, but I feel it overcome with a certain sense of accomplishment and brute. This air it carries is so unlike what I've always intended. It's funny and makes almost no sense. I suppose some things are never meant to be understood. This thing is quite the puzzle to me. It is so heavy and I am so weak. I'm longing for that sense of liberation and a decadence of the former. But to launch this thing off my shoulders is oddly not enough. It's there and a part of who I am and who I am not and who I am intended to be. This is fine. This is character. This is what people strive for I think. Wherein lies a true identity? This thing on my shoulders make it so difficult to figureout. If I never find out, this is fine. I know I know nothing and I'll just tra-la-la in my ignorance like everyone knows I do. It's just so heavy. I'm tired of carrying this weight on my shoulders. I want someone to explain these things to me so I can be a better person for it. It's hard to have that sense of comfort, though. Ya think you do sometimes, but we'll see...