i'm quite sure i'm in the wrong song
my desk is empty except for my computer and streaks of dust previsouly hidden by pens, papers, and the usual clutter of feeling at home. my walls are empty, there's boxes stacked in the hall... everything is suddenly uncomfortable in this familiar place.
soon my boxes and pictures will be in different closets and on different walls. i'll add a new key to my key ring and have a mailbox and an electric bill with my name on it. i'll fall asleep to a different ceiling and different sounds.
i hate this part of it all because it doesn't feel right. there's something eerie and distant about the transition. i welcome the change, but i dread the barage of boxes up three flights of stairs. i fear the pause before the new place feels like home.
i despise the misery of this suspended state. but eventually, the change is worth it all.
soon my boxes and pictures will be in different closets and on different walls. i'll add a new key to my key ring and have a mailbox and an electric bill with my name on it. i'll fall asleep to a different ceiling and different sounds.
i hate this part of it all because it doesn't feel right. there's something eerie and distant about the transition. i welcome the change, but i dread the barage of boxes up three flights of stairs. i fear the pause before the new place feels like home.
i despise the misery of this suspended state. but eventually, the change is worth it all.
posted by Sarah G at 9:33 PM
2 Comments:
Felt I was there as I read it.
ok, let me find my brain somewhere on the floor, and then I can complete my astouningly breathtaking comment.....got it. Well sarah, that was superbly and optically stimulating. I think that you need to find a way to refer to a gas-ripping nun somehow in the piece...it would add superior color to your thought provoking masterpiece.
~Jon~
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