fake Candy heart

I am sitting in front of my computer, trying to write a book review and do my Hindi homework and go to bed so that I can get up at 7:45 AM and go to class and do work and do office hours and go do something with a friend that I barely remember what it is.
But I'm stuck.
Because I feel so much like me today, and I'm a stubborn bastard. I am in this moment, so much more than I have been in time lately. I am chewing candy hearts that my mom sent me and savoring the sugary spikes of flavor: was it banana? lemon? orange somehow? I don't know, but I'll try again.
I'll try again.

I'm listening to Radiohead and hoping that the next song to play on the pandoralist I've made will be Creep, but I know it won't be. I know but I don't care. I am happy right now, because my roommate came back today and I am not angry at him for being a bit unstable. I went to a soupbowl with my best friend here, and I am not angry at her for ignoring me so often. I am probably going to go find a Russian foods store tomorrow instead of doing something more productive, go wander with a friend, maybe try to convince her to go see Coraline. But these are all just pleasantries.

I am sitting on the window ledge in my mind, looking out and letting the wind in. I am smelling the hyacinth on the real ledge, behind me. I am remembering what it feels like to walk down the street and feel the sky above me.
I'm not sure what it is; but it feels good and I don't want it to end.



I think it might be spring, coming; I think I hear her down the road.