First things first, gotta give some love to DJ Berndt and his poetry series Soon We Won't be Friends at Read Some Words. I really, really dig it. I'm too tired to come up with some absurd or funny blurb that kind of skirts the issue: I just like the poems. Read them (for all those who haven't already).

There are a lot of responsibilities I must attend to this week. And when the 'responsibilities' bear down on me, that's when I start taking lots of benzodiazepines and skip school more than usual and stay in bed for hours looking at my ceiling or the patterns that the paint makes on my walls and watch shitty reality tv about women having babies and have a difficult time having an orgasm and don't exercise or feel good about the future and take 4 hour naps in the afternoons and then binge drink on Friday to a point where I start weeping loudly and only further alienate the handful of people who still love me and give honest hugs. Let's hope I stop thinking about responsibilities. I have to rebuild friendships this week. I have to stop avoiding certain people. I have to stop being a bitch and try to be friendly to people I feel anger towards. I have to buy belated birthday lunches and look for a job. I have to write papers and meet profs and read a lot of Faulkner and Adorno. I have to write down poems that are circulating but won't settle. Smile, bitch.

I visited my family for 4 days and it was wonderful. I painted easter eggs and sang along to every song of the Sound of Music with my little sister and played baseball and went mountain biking and hiking and cooked delicious food with my mother and woke up early to drink coffee in the sun of the porch with my dad and offended religious women on Good Friday. Atypical activities encouraging feelings of nostalgia and peace. I felt safe with my family. I don't really feel safe in the city.

I'm not really feeling depressed or angsty, just unsettled and jaded. On the brink. y'know.