Places

I decided to pop a squat in this exact spot about four hours ago and moved only for dinner. I have guarded this spot like it is my job, letting everything else filter through this one standing ground. As I text someone about Winterfest and let the music float through my ears and fall out the other side, I feel emotionless. My day started off rough, initially because another tomato zit appeared on my face. (Tomato zits are the huge kind that are like ant hills are your face, are bright red and no matter what your dermatological prescription is or your acne-killing secret, they take at least a week to go away.) After showering and getting dressed, I did my makeup and blow-dried my hair. I ate part of my breakfast, gathered my books and binders, grabbed the other half of my breakfast and ran out to my carpool with as much momentum as Dash from the Incredibles. I would not gain a ginormous tomato zit and miss my ride all within less than an hour.

My day was quite literary-term resembling. Alliteration: Drab and Dull. The minutes passed as quickly as molasses runs, but not in a bad way. Unlike the agonizing longevity of Monday, their gravity didn't strap me to my chair and nearly suffocate me. They were empty moments, but heavy at the same time. Like metal or titanium ships without passengers or furniture, they contained nothing but fell with such clamorous crashes. At the end of the day, everything was iffy. IFFY. What an awful word. It, in itself, is iffy. Iffy has no real connotation besides its meaning. What a perfectly, awfully constructed word. Ignoring that side note, I had yet another insignificant scuffle with the mom. Why do I have such an eventful and spontaneous life?

Coming home, I retreated to the space with walls that hold my head when my neck is too scrawny, that lift my shoulders when they still schlump despite my efforts. These fencing, four walls try to kill me sometime, they hold me so high to where my feet can hardly reach the ground. They are my only crutch as I click the little red X button beside the Facebook tab and reach for my phone but it is out of reach. They breathe strength into me and gather me into one piece and impel me to be individual, to be independent. 

Moments later, Explosions in the Sky played on the iHome and my heartbeat echoed the beating drums. My pulse sped as the drums burst with sound. Yet, my indifference was evident. I rhythmically and mechanically completed my Algebra 2 homework, only hesitating to locate my original equation in all of my chicken-scratch. I opened Facebook once more and immediately acknowledged the name of a guy I basically hate on chat. (Not his real name-) Trent, himself, isn't so bad. I rather like him when we talk and interact, but it's him, morally, that pisses me off. He flirts with a bunch of girls and his words are miles in front of his actions. Trent promises things he won't do and tries too hard to look like he doesn't try at all. So, in other words, he's a total poser and feigns hating the attention then under-handedly totally milks it. But that's another can of worms.

Yesterday, I was a stay-up-late slacker. Today, I am a methodical machine without any human reflexes staring blankly at a arrogant guy's name on Facebook chat. Tomorrow, who knows what I will be. But all that matters now is sorting the rest of today. Words of Coldplay drift through one ear and fall out the other. They come like the shape of a kid running the course of a diving board. Even, level and unaware of the crash at the end. They dart across the board and collide with an abundance of aqua beneath. They collide with the carpet here. They seep in and remain stationary.

They perch on the flooring on which I put all my weight and faith into, the faith of keeping me up. They settle there until I sort them out, problem by problem, so methodically, until there is nothing left to figure out but what I will be tomorrow.