Look it’s been a while

I haven’t written in so long. Written and edited something. I found an old poem in my journal the other day and I typed it up on google docs. It was funny, being able to feel my voice in my hands, a past self and the drive I had. Now I feel thick and dumb. Tractoring through life and homework and piles of shit just trying to get stuff done so I can fucking sleep. I have a glass of wine, two half-drunk cups of coffee, and a glass of water on the desk behind my computer. What an array of cups to wash at 2 am. Or leave in the sink. Or leave in my room until my bullet coffee grows small creatures.

Look, I’m at my grandmother’s house. It’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Monday if you count the late night ams. There is a pack of cigarettes in the kitchen that doesn’t belong to anyone. And I want one. But being the young person I am, I just quit my juul a month ago. Ah sobriety! How seriously I do not take you. Juuls am I right? Funny little flashdrives. It made walking up a hill a breathless chore. I could feel my heartbeat when I took a hit (not in a good way, like a I’m going to die at 30 of a heart attack kind of way.) But you know what I could also feel for a fleeting second? My fucking atoms man. Buzzing away. Singing sweet. And then a headache.

Wouldn’t it be nice, to finish this paper I’m working on for school, sit in the backyard and smoke just one? Fucking ideal. Good thing I’m too lazy to put on shoes, it’s 40 degrees outside and I’m a Californian that get’s frostbite when the weather goes below 50, so no nicotine for tonight. Maybe just sleep. Yeah. Homework can wait til tomorrow. It’s the holidays, it's time for a break.