i am so sorry
I have half of a shopping addiction, meaning I spend all my time looking at shit I won’t buy and returning the shit that I do. My wallet is fine, but my grades aren’t.
I was walking to class and as I went to open the door I severely miscalculated either how far away from the handle I was or how long my arms are. Did I mention that four people were standing behind me?
plug in your headphones, set aside six minutes, and just watch. i promise it’s good.
My room is as brick (meaning cold) and barren as my heart, but that’s probably because my window fell off of its frame about a week and a half ago.
I saw the love of my life—a very adorable and very married PhD (she’s finishing this semester or maybe she’s already finished and still here because she enjoys my company) math candidate at my school—for the first time this semester about a week and a half ago. She caught me off guard and as her left hand swayed in my general direction I caught a flash of diamond-encrusted light, which should have directed me away from her general direction, but unfettered glee has a way of blinding one from reality. So I let out a squeal—a barely audible, but still audible squeal of euphoria, chastity, and simp-itis. Oink, oink, motherfuckers.
I had been on my way towards my grader because I needed a bit of help, but he’s a bit of a mathematical nazi so I decided to ask her instead. She began looking over my work and talking to me (I wasn’t really listening because that accent and that face had me severely occupied) about how my proofs lacked a bit of “mathematical integrity and maturity” (read: eeeeeee maaaatheeemaaateeecaaaal eeeeeeentegrity). Hmm.
I’m not very good at compartmentalizing.
I’ve been thinking about integrity and intentions a lot lately. Not other people’s because who gives a fuck? but mine. If the things I do have any or if they’re laced with intentions ugly and self-centered. I’m only wondering because, well, it’s cold as hell outside and its bitterness has left me wishing for when then and used to were now and maybe.
It’s so brick outside that I could probably build myself a home or maybe just a windowless fortress so these feelings can never be let out again.