i'll delete him from my queue
because he looks like you.
i'll ignore the refrigerator
humming the song "alligator".
i'll sit and cry, yearning
to be out there and not stationary, burning.
i'll gag and spit you out,
i don't give a damn who i talk about.
you tell me sharp,
"i'm fading fast, tianna,
fading fast."
it's your own damn fault or is it mine?
for not talking to me all those years.
didn't try to convince me i was wrong,
not even that you were right. were you?
your silence was a lesson well learned. i never know what to say.
because i can't be around you anymore
without hating what's to come,
molestation, unwanted marriage,
302, ogling, basement yelling.
i wonder where our family even started.
but the majority of me is too angry to care.
17 March 2012
14 March 2012
Spring break and losing weight.
This is my fifth day of spring break and I'm just now getting to the point where I feel, for lack of a better phrase, lazy as fuck. I guess that's a good thing, as I'm leaving Sunday and I don't have many days left to feel this way. However, it doesn't really seem like it in the long run. Every time I home I have this feeling of being lazy as fuck even if I'm getting things done. I definitely don't feel this way as often at college.
So, let me interject this well thought out blog with a to-do list, since I'm organized like that.
So, let me interject this well thought out blog with a to-do list, since I'm organized like that.
- Keep working on math homework. This doesn't have to be done before break is over, but I'd like to work as little once I get back from break.
- Work on my dance comparison paper. I'm comparing literary conflict to dance. It's kinda fun.
- Stretch daily. I'm trying to become more flexible. Yeah, yeah, go me.
- Lose weight and keep track of my food. I joined myfitnesspal.com, which is said to be awesome, and I'm trying to lose some of the stupid freshman 15 that is haunting me. Vegans, don't think you're excluded from this.
- Exercise! Whether it's walking around Pitcairn, practicing for Pizzazz, or running up and down the stairs, I need to stay active for at least 30 minutes a day. Must.
- Hang out with Bobby. Obviously.
- Sit up straight. I'm horrible at this.
- Start my story for Fiction Writing.
As you can see, my to do list isn't that intense. They're just little necessary things. Speaking of the freshman 15, it needs to go away. Now. I've always had belly fat, but it has reached a "I'm pregnant and just starting to show" stage. Hence my multiple recent purchases of overlarge T-shirts. Gross.
I also really want to take some kind of dance class this summer with my friend Richard. I think it'd be so much fun. If I can afford it I'll definitely do it. I'm also applying for a bunch of jobs right now for summer so wish me luck on that. And I have $600 due to my college in 2 weeks. Awesome.
Maybe this is the beginnings of growing up. Maybe feeling lazy as fuck is the calm before the storm.
Probably.
13 March 2012
of love in place.
i felt your resin hands
clasped around my clammy veins.
after show jitters flitted through my thighs.
i performed a miracle,
a victory march of a heartbeat,
watching you fold and kick
kick me straight in the gut.
tell me why i pushed aside
a mountain that never was.
i blinked back grant street
where i couldn't hold back my stupid smile.
past forbes avenue
where i dug deep in my pocket,
texting the first gay friend in my contacts.
past exit 72a
where my heart grew wings.
past the squirrel hill tunnel
i felt small, smooth, like peanut butter
or nutella.
the stop sign nudged me
just turn already, monroeville's waiting
i'm back home, nestled under the crest
where you dance in my dreams,
on the stage where i loved you.
is there any point
in telling you
how i used to feel?
clasped around my clammy veins.
after show jitters flitted through my thighs.
i performed a miracle,
a victory march of a heartbeat,
watching you fold and kick
kick me straight in the gut.
tell me why i pushed aside
a mountain that never was.
i blinked back grant street
where i couldn't hold back my stupid smile.
past forbes avenue
where i dug deep in my pocket,
texting the first gay friend in my contacts.
past exit 72a
where my heart grew wings.
past the squirrel hill tunnel
i felt small, smooth, like peanut butter
or nutella.
the stop sign nudged me
just turn already, monroeville's waiting
i'm back home, nestled under the crest
where you dance in my dreams,
on the stage where i loved you.
is there any point
in telling you
how i used to feel?
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