this adrienne rich excerpt, always always
this adrienne rich excerpt, always always
we’d entered that part of July where the days begin to swallow themselves.
Lot by Bryan Washington
so it’s a wednesday night in july and you’re at home and you’ve showered and you’ve masturbated and you’ve gnawed at the inside of your mouth and you’ve eaten and washed the dishes and fixed a corner of the fitted sheet on your bed and texted your grandmother and thought positive thoughts and still the feeling comes. what then
will you just let me be silly for a sec. there’s this dread so ancient in me
Stroking my bush thoughtfully
being in your early twenties is like [grocery shopping alone] [having instant noodles for dinner] [remembering random details about that one friend you haven’t spoken to in five years] [feeling overwhelming guilt for every purchase that isn’t strictly “necessary”] [having midday naps] [finding out through facebook that the girl who was mean to you in high school has a husband and a baby] [falling a little in love with every stranger on public transport] [pretending you’re not afraid of being alone] [wondering when you’ll feel like a fully realized person] [listening to bands you liked in middle school] [blinking and it’s suddenly december] [failing to imagine yourself ten years from now] [feeling like you’re running out of time]
The two times i loved you the most in a car thursday
you understand.