—LEAVING ME LOOKING LIKE A DUMB-STRUCK FOOL

  

 

…Hey, Monday. I can’t ever remember being this happy to see you.

 

…It’s a miracle to awaken and feel more stupid that I already am. 

 

…I know what I said, but look at things now.

 

…And I know I’m running late. I’m sorry.

 

…Some weekends feel like the longest ever, but then you think, “Yay!” However, that was not me yesterday.

 

…When you get to the point where you don’t give a fuck, that’s a big problem.

 

…Sometimes, every answer is simply another dead end.

 

…It’s something, isn’t it, to wonder what might have been?

 

…There are few things worse than reading bad poetry, and yet I’ve done my fair share of that lately.

 

…I think things would be better if someone could remind me how to get to the Chemistry or Architecture building. 

 

…“We have our own language.” Thank God for that.

 

…If you’re comfortable enough, tell me everything and I promise I’ll just listen.

 

…Sometimes it’s best not to watch.

 

…A lot of times, I feel like I’m a ticking clock left sitting in the corner of a room.

 

…I’m sorry I didn’t wait a few lines longer. I know it might have made a difference, one way or the other. 

 

…I wrote a poem about a photo I recently re-saw. The poem was terrible and will die in ashes. But it was nice for a while, revisiting that.

 

…Shooting stars are either a blessing or a curse, and I’ve yet to see one for myself.

 

…I will just say, without reservation, that everyone deserves to be held.

 

…On Saturday, a cement-gray day, swamped in rain, I finally, fully understood the term “rolling thunder.” It sounded like a cross between Joe Cocker, Louis Armstrong and Chris Stapleton. And it brought down the house.

 

…You see those grey hairs right there? They’re trying to let you know how lucky you are.

 

…”Chinese Torture.” Maybe that’s racist now, I don’t know. But my brothers used to proclaim “Chinese Torture!” pinning my forearms down with their knees, then drilling their fisted knuckles into my chest when all I could do was squirm.

I think they were trying to teach me how to toughen up, but I was a skinny chicken then. Still am.

 

…There are some mornings you don’t want to be seen, and this is one.  

 

--“How did you know?”

--“Because I fucking paid attention.”

 

…You have free aim to hit me in the face if I ever read another Lang Leav book.

 

…“Sometimes the loneliest place is to be in love.” Lang Leav

 

…I know what I need to do, for sure: floss.

 

…I’m not asking for much, just that you’ll be there when you say you will, and that you’ll say things that aren’t cruel, untrue and hurtful. The rest, I leave up to you.

 

…The things that cost you a lot emotionally just might be the very things that end up saving your life.

 

…Today, getting a handwritten letter from someone you care about just might be the best thing that could happen to a person. And I bet you’d cry.

 

…I think the problem was they had a plane to catch when I couldn’t even find my way home.

 

…I’ll take a low end tight end every day of the week. What else is there?

 

…Sometimes no one wins.

 

…And it used to be for a while, that the river flowed right through my door. 

 

…I’m giving myself grace. My writing has been aimless. I write all of the time but send it nowhere, other than here, or else it dies a dull life in my computer. Come January 1^st, though, I’m back: a man on a mission.

 

…Anymore I can cry about anything—loss, beauty, tampon commercials.

 

…I don’t like to pout, but that’s about all I feel like doing right now. Sue me.

 

…I guess I’ll pull my heart back off the floor now.

 

…“Does anyone here know Mr. Kuntz? Yeah? Well, do me a favor and tell him that no one has ever flunked this class, but he’s about to make history.”

 

…Monday, you’re such a showoff, not to mention a bully. Maybe you should change your name to Shylock.  

 

…Sometimes these walls feel like they’re wearing knives instead of paint.

 

…It’s strange to be so lonesome that I even miss Stevie Nicks’ barking, but there you go.

 

…Sometimes, asking WTF? is the entirely wrong question.

 

…I’m counting down the years, hoping to smell the flowers before they’re all gone.

 

…So, I guess I’ll just chill to some Carly Simon now, and try to figure sh*t out. I love Carly. She suffered greatly from stage fright, same as me.

 

…Hold me in your hands like a bunch of flowers…

 

…I’ll be better tomorrow. Promise. Or, I promise as much as possible.

 

…“Clique! Ding! Study! Drink!”