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we negotiate with chaos for some sense of satisfaction how do i start this entry? tonight. my suitemate tried to kill herself. these sentences in black and white, staring back at me, do not make sense. the night started off in my french professor's apartment, drinking beers and listening to zebda and belle and sebastian, and it ended in a hospital with that all too familiar stench of death. i am wondering when life becomes something more than tragic. i am so tired of these sentences, this computer, these four white walls. i am so sick of this apathy or these extremities or not wanting to label anything. i am tired of this whining. i am even tired of this entry and its seventh grade-esque qualities. the only thing i feel are my eyes and they will not stop crying. |
