the national anthem

my days go by in waves. up at 6, dress up in sweatpants and hoodie, stretch in the lobby, and out the door to meet a running partner that never shows up. for the first time all year, i'm angry about it. bad dreams afterwards, but ninety seconds before i woke up, i saw your face. and i played it cool and was about to walk over when it ended.

a good lunch, a great meeting over classes, an optimistic feeling for a while. i read the paper. joked in class and watched betta fish fight eight or nine times. lounged in my room, showered with amazing soap, out to eat a large burger for dinner. found out a friend of mine was gay when it was announced over the restaurant intercom. i almost cried laughing.

alone in my room, bored, no work, no friends around. tried talking but...

you're full of shit and you know it. maybe you don't want to believe it. you're scared and that's ok. it's really ok. you're scared to really do what's right for you and so am i and that's ok. i wish i could make a difference. i wish i could change your mind every once in a while, but i can't. you make it so goddamned hard to be a friend. it's all i can even try to be, a friend. feels so useless sometimes, to be a friend. a fucking supportive "i'll back you up" friend. you make it so goddamned hard. sometimes i don't know why i even try.

i sat with my head in my arms until you left.

thought about walking down south campus and visiting a friend but she was on duty so i walked up and watched the cards beat the mets. back down here again and i can't do anything but write a little bit because it's the only thing that means anything to me right now. up in six hours to be stood up again?

i want a cigarette. i know it's bad. i know it's bad. i tell people it's bad. i told you it was bad. it killed my family. i still walk behind them so i can breathe it in. it still makes me smile. i still want it.

i want it and schizophrenia. i want problems... i should be blessed. i am blessed. i'm just not special. everyone wants to believe they're special. everyone. but they're not. and i'm not. so i want things to be wrong with me. i guess that's natural.

externality

mmmm

my econ professor today was talking about negative externalities and how nobody in either class had mentioned secondhand smoke. and he asked us if anybody liked secondhand smoke, you know, sarcastically. of course nobody raised their hand. i wanted to. it's fucked up my family but i love it.

i was walking back from the coffee shop last night and there was a guy standing on the quad under a lamppost smoking a cigarette. i walked by behind him, through a cloud of smoke, and breathed deep, slowly, as much as i could, and held it there while i walked.

love it.