Wednesday, March 6, 2013


Too much energy. It's coming out of my fingertips, streaming out of my hair, shooting out of my toes and ears and eyes and twitching back and forth. I clean my room, do a load of laundry, get distracted by organizing piles of my books and papers and then switch to trying to study- but before I make a cup of tea. And eat a cucumber. And then start cleaning the kitchen, and the laundry is done so oh! Hang it up to dry.
Sometimes I miss the time when I lacked energy. When things were slower, calmer, more easily categorized and finished. I had time to think and think and think because all I had was time- time was maple syrup, time was slippery and sticky and I could wade through it as if in a dream.

Now I talk too much. I am still the shy, quiet child I used to be- except now, sometimes, my mouth opens and words pour out in a fast, jumbled stream and I can't stop it, they just keep coming. When I recognize it happening I tell myself to stop, to breathe, but then I am in the bathroom- how did I get here?- and I am talking out loud to no one but myself, saying breathe, breathe, breathe to the shower gel and the loofah and the green tiled floor. Then I can't help but laugh at myself for sounding like a crazy person telling herself to breathe, but my laugh is too loud and it makes it even more crazy, and I find that even more funny and I laugh longer, echoes slamming off the white walls and the dark skylight.



    1. "Crazy"? Nah. Grow your hair out, rot your teeth first.