day 150

Tomorrow is my boyfriend's birthday.

Today is Wednesday.

Nothing is relevant to anything.

I want a tattoo of elephants
on the inside of my arm.
Three of them. A storm of elephants.
      (Irrelephance)

This isn't a funny poem.
This is a piece where I admit that
      I am actually lost.
 I don't know where I am
 or even where I want to be.
 What I want to do
 or how to start wanting to know.

Christmas is in a few days.
  Tomorrow is the first day of Winter,
supposedly.
I've always thought it was today.
The 21st. The 21st is always
the first of everything.

Tomorrow is the 22nd.
  It's always second best.

It will be in the 50 degree range
Tomorrow.

Winter.
It isn't as cold as it should be.
I'm not as warm as I should feel.

My boyfriend makes me exhausted.
Loving him is getting tiring. He loves me,
I know. But I can't seem to
believe him when he tells me that
he's in love with me.

And it's none of that stupid self-esteem shit.
I know that I am capable of being loved
and having someone fall in love with me.
But not him.
He's a character.

Holden Caulfield is still my dream guy.
   He's not even real.
   (Irrelevant)

I'm already dead. I already feel dead.
How much more dead can I
be alive to feel?

Today my brother told me that my mother
   doesn't mind if I go away for college.
   Part of the reason why I didn't apply for UW Madison is because

1) I fucked up in high school and my GPA clearly wouldn't be
    "good enough" to be accepted
2) I found home in my second home town
3) This house became warm to me

Nowadays I just feel lost in a city I know best.
I feel cold. Like -52 degree weather.
There is nothing that can keep me warm.
I don't mind freezing. Throw me a few
compliments to radiate my smile,
I'll be fine.

I don't know where I want to be anymore.
Who I want to be with, why I feel so lost.

I am no longer who I wanted to be.

I hardly have the energy to stay animated.
I miss myself.

I've been writing for 150 days straight.
That's a shitload of minutes,
hours, seconds I've been thinking.
The lightbulb is dim, love.
Princess.
The lightbulb is burning out.

Where is your passion?

    (Good question)
We all get lost.
I'm staying dizzy in this maze of emotions
until I amaze myself with discovery.

Soon, love, soon.
You can't allow someone to fall in love
with you,
if you can't fall in love with
yourself.
I am losing my beauty.

  (I now understand The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Two months after half-ass reading it.)

       (Irrelevant)