diary entry

20th feb 2025

10:28 pm

it is mid-feburary. february where the hours are coins clattering in your coat pocket. i dish out my coins at the register and stuff my shopping bag (eggs, light from lecture hall floor, 2 letters to friends, and 4 cans of grapefruit soda).

god had placed the coins into my pocket, firmly pat my shoulder, and sent me on my merry way back to this existence, like how you'd send a kid to the sweets shop. february is your pocket-money. don't spend it all on something silly. but i am never stringent with this allowance of mine, you see. i trade my hours for tattered conversations on the panamanian golden frog and writing poems on the back of textbooks. i hear the register ping as i hand in another few hours to listen to the same abba song over and over again until it rings in my ear even when its no longer playing. i am nineteen and terribly afraid. i am nineteen and desperately in love. i dont measure my passion or caculate my affection. there are worse things than chipping your teeth or putting your tie on wonky, you know. i say i love you to everything that i love every chance i get. i lay my back on cold floors and read mary oliver. i cry. i remember to tell my friends im leaving - i need silence and newer trees. i chew on the ends of yellow pencils, compose one (1) short story, and i decide to go back home now. maybe ill straighten my hair. maybe ill make you coffee.

maybe ill tie my shoelaces and slink outside the door of god like a shy kitten. ill ask for a bit more, a bit longer of just this.