There is such a lack of "maybe" in my life right now. Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, no, no, no. Yes. I'm happy and I'm free and I'm open. That's all I've ever wanted. Time only exists in the way the shadows change in my room.
I wish I had more to talk about. Or more people to talk to. Or something. Instead I have a belly full of beer, too many plans in too many cities, and Joni Mitchell desperately trying to teach me lessons but I won't turn up the volume.
A cigarette flew back in my car yesterday. It hit my head and then burned a hole in my shirt and back. I tried to figure out what the universe was trying to tell me: "Watch your back." "Don't litter." "Smoke less." But I think it was more what my mother always says, "Guard your heart." But I'm tired of guarding my heart. I worry all of the time that people can read my mind. I would tell anyone anything if they asked but I don't like that idea of my thoughts just escaping and making their new homes alongside the thoughts of others.
What do I have right now?
Cookies for my drug dealer. An appointment to see my best friend in our future home. A new brand of cigarettes. Half a beer. Time.
Oh, god, so much time. I can't focus. I'm high on freedom. I'm low on money. I'm leaving the state Friday at sunrise. I'm tired and I'm selfish and goddammit, what the hell am I going to do with all of those flowers now?
It doesn't matter.
Tomorrow I am going to hug as many people as possible and discover something new. The day after that, I don't know.
But my hair will be straight and purple and brown and and and.
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