i haven’t really slept in two days.

been kicking the piles of raked leaves on campus out of spite. not even spite. mostly joy. but then i feel bad for the people paid to organize these piles. i’m sorry, all you unblinking men with your funny four wheels. i have promised myself against order.

family keeps asking what i want for christmas & i feel like it is not a good idea to say oh well, you see, objects have been really troublesome for me lately, i think i am trying to phase them out, i loved them once but now they make me feel heavy.

maybe i will ask for an all-day frost. it is one of my favorite things. ice clinging to the earth.

i tend to side with frailty. though i do not believe myself frail.

i found a vial of perfume my mother used to wear. i’ve been wearing it & i don’t know. the bottle had a long gold neck and as a child it pleased me just to look at it. my mom didn’t like the scent so it went unused. i liked it but she wouldn’t let me wear it. so i don’t know if i wear it now out of defiance or just to remember that i am someone’s daughter.

december was one of the first words i really cared about. it sounded so terribly pretty. i would sit and say it over and over to myself.

my problems with aesthetics started early. i’ve always faired poorly in the cold. winter was a lesson i had to learn: things can be beautiful and unpleasant.

poetry does a lot to me but it cannot warm me.

remember when we were children and there were words that were not allowed?

some of these rules persist. see also: ”melancholy” as a polite term for “very often alone.” we tell ourselves so many tales about our aloneness.

no sleep means no more dreams where i lose my teeth.

(to say nothing of trains in the night and earliest morning.)

i wish i had something you touched everyday. something threadbare where your hands have been.