Today I slept in. I sleep better when I’m the only body in the bed. I like having another beside me, but I sleep better when I’m not sharing. It’s been months but I still think of you at the times I shouldn’t anymore. I don’t think it’s because I want you, maybe it’s just innocent curiosity. Is there such a thing in thoughts like that? It’s hard to be alone. I like it too much and it can make me dormant from the social word. But I get lonely quick enough. My heart eases its way to my throat and slowly swells until I realize I need to breathe the air from another.
Today the grey sky sheds soft, wet needles on the freshly dense college town. School starts next week, and the kids are happy to be back, away from their parents’ homes. The weather doesn’t treat me as bad as I thought it would. I don’t have an umbrella, but my raincoat is a sufficient shield. The wind gets so bitter in the winter, and forces its disdain of the season up my skirt and into my coat hood, pushing it to my shoulders. My legs and lady parts are chilled. Though I can’t see them, I feel goose bumps peeking out all over my skin. Sometimes I imagine this is how my skin breathes. I’m not wearing panties for no particular reason. I just sometimes don’t wear them, and by sometimes I mean more than most people probably don’t wear panties. But I bet most people, if they even think about it, imagine that I am. Maybe they think I care enough to match my panties with my outfit, imagining fire engine red panties made to look like boy underwear hugging my round bottom that they don’t consider is crisp with goose bumps. But they’re wrong. I lack a brazier too. I know one day my breasts won’t sit so nicely, so I take advantage of this time when they do. I wear a tight t-shirt that would shamelessly display my nipples if it weren’t for the second layer of vest. My skirt sits high and hugs my ribs, and rain has seepingly intruded into the toes of my high tops. People move so funny in the rain. Guarding themselves and their valuable parts. The woman runs outside to throw a bag of trash away, holding an additional bag over her mullet that may have been nicely groomed earlier this morning. The rain, but mostly wind, makes it hard to tell. A couple holds tightly to an umbrella instead of each other. I see another couple doing the same later.
My days are numbered here, and it’s getting sad but hopeful. It’s always a little sad when you leave something you’ve known and gotten close to for a while. But the positive anticipation of whatever’s to come balances me out. But sometimes I think about this place and all that’s happened and my heart creeps up in my throat and begins to swell. I have to swallow to push it back down. Only four years have gone by and so much has changed. So much will still continue to change. I guess that’s what life is, though, a period of continuously changing time that belongs to a particular living thing. For now I am responsible for two lives—Me and my cat. I feel bad because the change soon to come in my life may not come in hers. But that in itself is change. Oh, these dreary days and the things they do to my mind. Hello to the new year of 2o1o.
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