i didnt realize how often i put my knee on stuff until a big chunk of it went missing
adults can get skinned knees too? except I’m only 6.25 anyway, so…
oi. i thought this was an injury reserved for small children and the poorly coordinated; both of which i am not.
so should i be propped up with a pillow and watching saturday afternoon cartoons? yes.
Graduating today and also got my grades (FINALLY).
I made it out of grad school with a 3.85 GPA!
Does this mean I get to add a funny tassel or something shiny to my bland gown?
The day has come.
(GRADUATION, WTF)(13,375 plays)
but ill write it anyway
tomorrow I graduate. As in, I get to put on a cult-y gown, a funny hat and some hooded regalia and walk across a little stage to get a diploma that isn’t actually a diploma.
17 effing years of academia. There is so much to unpack.
I just want to go back to writing poems (HOWEVER SHITTY THAT MIGHT TURN OUT), playing mediocre banjo music and making art.
I just hope my creativity hasn’t been totally destroyed by conforming to academic standards for the past 6 years. Ugh.
In other news: I am losing my mind. I am losing everything. I am falling down and kinda don’t want to get up. I am fighting change and I am whining about it every step of the way. I might be 25 but I feel like my growth has been stunted; I am still 19 through and through. I cannot cope with most scary things. I don’t learn from my mistakes. I expect handouts and freebies. I just want to derp around and not accept any responsibility.
(This has been a draft of my updated resume.)
nobody likes my poems.
and this bothers me.
she has cut down the trees. the trees were dying. some of the trees were already dead. a large vine choked the trees. the trees couldn’t get out of the way in time. the vine is like my love; a boa constrictor.
the trees were cut down. they are bare stumps. my boa constrictor love slithers past the stumps, tasting the air with forked tongue. nothing left to choke here, it thinks.
now there is no place to hang the hammock. we stand in the yard wagging our fleshy jaws; our fleshy jaws with bulbous tongues. our soft cartilage noses smell ash in the air.
my boa constrictor love and its forked tongue head west, where there is more to taste, and choke.
Broken hearts want broken necks.
I’ve done some things that I want to forget but I can’t.
Broke my pace and ran out of time.
Sometimes I’m so full of shit that it should be a crime.
(Source: Spotify)(0 plays)
I will be found:
packing for CT
watching the bruins win
going to see Black Pus
Unfortunately I have to see Black Pus without my soulmate/bff because he saw them in brooklyn a few weeks ago. Wamp wamp.
For Elias: Brrrriiiiaaaaaaaan!
I have finally started my research on stereotypes of mens in teh libes.
I have 23 responses so far and it’s only been a few hours! I can’t wait to see what the results will be.
I spent the afternoon hanging in the hammock in the park attempting to sleep. I’ve been sleeping like garbage, so preoccupied with so many things. Also there is construction on my roof and in my front yard, so there’s a lot of not-quiet happening.
Today I got in trouble for wearing culottes because apparently now “shorts” are culottes and super not appropriate for work. Great, my knees are too sexy for Omaha. Thanks, Midwestern values. When you get with the program, then maybe I will.