then how come i feel so ready.

i cannot do apocalyptic settings. i think about them all.

the.

time.

my older, wiser friends say that's the source of my anxiety. that i think ahead to that which isn't yet here, and then feel a total loss for anything that isn't in the future.

last night was sweats, and anxiety, and a tightness in my chest i can't ever get out of. and it wasn't because anything new had happened. the bad is never new. it is always there, but i make do, when i repress it. when i ignore the constant shaking fears that threaten the value i put to my life, and i try to make people laugh. but just because i ignore them doesn't mean they disappear, it means i am trying to continue, regardless. regardless. as in, they are always there. i can feel that tightness under my breasts, like a rock pushed up against my lung cage. things are not better or worse, they are either forgotten or remembered, and on the rare occasions where they are the only things i can remember, then i shake, and i can't breathe, and i sit up suffocating in the silly fear of my own skin.


i had a real nice moment with a boy today. it was cute and sweet and he gave me chocolate and listened to me talk. everyone keeps saying nice things about me and ending it with, "but you're not ready for that yet."

before any of that happened,

on the metro ride home, i ran into an elementary school bengali friend. she was dripping with fake conversation, and i hated every second of it. but i went along with it, because that is the polite thing to do. she tried to poke her business into my sister's married life, and i didn't give her an opportunity to criticize. "he's one of the nicest people i know," i said.

and then she mentioned a local bengali boy, who, a couple of days ago, had been shot in the head. he had gotten himself involved in the drug trade. i was horrified - that's terrible, i said. she nodded and then said, "but at least he died in the month of ramadan. that's good." seeing my reaction, her words stumbled. "i mean, it's not good but it's a silver lining."

she was a fucking idiot.

watch the stoop.

everyday can't be a party, which is a damn shame. did i mention my birthday ruled? got dirty, dirty, drunk, and so many people i loved showed up in the same bar. grabbed ketan and said, "everyone is SO nice" and he laughed and said, "everyone is ALWAYS nice" and i wish i could feel like that all the time. kyle says that's called alcoholism.



i saw Sir last week, thank god. he was so happy, so i was so happy. we're going to be friends forever, and he's going to remain one of the most important people in my life. friends come and go and vary depending on what you're going through in life, but we've got a thing. a bond sounds lame, a friendship sounds corny, and anything else sounds misleading. he laughed that time we were in the car, and i said "you're my best friend" and then he got all sullen and said, "before you forget about me anyhow" and i slammed that car door shut again, turned over in my seat and said, "WHAT. that's not even a fucking thing. NEVER, you idiot." that's how you know i love you. the angrier i am about it.

because it overwhelms me. because i'm so ridiculously sensitive, that all i want to do is spend my entire time loving you. i want to drown you in it, and tuck it in to every corner of your being, so you get it. so there's no doubt in our non-linear lives, that i respect and adore your existence. and no matter how much i try to get that across, you will never truly understand. because it is too grand of a feeling - i get overwhelmed just trying to be accurate about it. so i fucking love you, you idiot.

this went somewhere else.
my poor mother gets sad and doesn't know what to do with lying-in-bed/mazzy star-sruti.



in honour of our simultaneous lives, sitting on the steps of our favourite cafe at school, anna and i have decided to release our own hip hop record: "watch the stoop."