Disneyland at 20.
It poured all day. I spent about an hour straightening my insufferably long hair only to be undone by the rain. My clothes were drenched and every next step I took felt heavier than the last. I couldn’t grasp the level of my happiness at first. But once my head went up in the sky, I knew I didn’t want to come down unless I was happy. So I decided to let contentment find me then decided to be partial to the pouring.
There was a moment when paranoia struck me like the back of some bitch’s hand. I couldn’t look into anyone’s eyes and I felt they were all onto me. I fought with myself, forgot to eat my corndog, and stared pensively at nothing and no one in particular. When I won my own fight, I returned to the contentment that found me.
Disneyland at 5 in the morning.
I’m a shitty writer because I have nothing to write about. I’m a shitty writer because I never write. I’m a shitty writer.
Disneyland at 5 in the morning is the convulsing of my angry body. It’s my fist wrapped in white. It’s your fucking back turned to me.
I’m a fucking shitty writer.
“Shut your fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear your voice anymore.” At a different time, I wouldn’t have regrettably shuffled to the exit. I wouldn’t have tried to sit on the curb of the busiest place in Anaheim, being nudged by strollers and whining children and their goddamn shrill families. I wouldn’t have tried to sit on some fake fucking porch thinking of all the ways I could get sad.
“Shut your fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear your voice anymore.” I might’ve said it to the wrong person. But it doesn’t really matter. I want everyone to hear this from me. Without the part where I regret the existence of its fucking beauty.
Disneyland at 6:47am.
Mikal is asleep beside me on this shit of a bed. My fingers are directing me to write about how much I hate her. How much I actually fucking hate her and the way she makes me feel. That’s probably the price you pay for adoring someone who can’t reciprocate. I fucking hate this person but I don’t think I can live without her.
I fucking hate this.
But wait. Give me an hour and I’ll be high enough to forget how much I hate her.
