(written while in Korea, a few weeks before the anxiety set in)
The buzz of the computer screen is my only comfort when i’m feeling emotional
is it poetry? or prose? or just the ramblings of a lost little white girl alone at her computer, lit up by the dim screen, her eyes slowly degenerating
because she won’t wear her glasses, picking at her face because it is a small punishment for the pizza she ate instead of working out, listening to
classical music because something in her soul is begging for the old days when things made sense and were longer. lasted longer. now our
collective attention span is about three minutes. but tomorrow she will wear black eyeshadow and think about bukowski and spit at the world,
but smile at her students because it’s her damn job and she’s too afraid to be jobless.