September 16, 2003
Locas Dias
There should be something more than this yellow lamplight. Something more than this lukewarm cup of coffee, these cold, slick keys sharing the occupation of my hands. Tonight my eyes should not be blinking the glue away, fighting the sleep that inevitably comes with too long at the computer.
I still have the forty minute drive home.
There is too much testosterone in this house, exemplified by the furniture: large, wooden, plentiful. Mike has been helping his new roommate (who is also named Mike, cruel world) move in tonight. The fucker has a huge television and huge couches and huge speakers. I don't think he's trying to make up for something, I'm almost certain that he is.
So the cozy, many-pillowed couch has been relegated to the Command Center, and I shall make it a point to prefer this one above those which have taken its place in the living room: reclining leather couches, looking oddly like cinnamon rolls in both shape and colour.
I should've gone hours ago, had I any sense. I lingered, as I am wont to do. It's a rare talent, this witless waiting about. I snatch at him when he is within my grasp, pulling his mouth to mine when I can, tugging at shirt and jeans and wishing for otherwise. The promises he makes with his eyes hold me fast to this chair.
I should've gone hours ago.
We've spent the day together, a rare thing, considering our recent and current situations. Both of us had to play a little hookie... but there can be no bone without marrow. Skipping a class makes me feel dangerous and deviant, despite my age and the frequency in which I do it. Anyone remember last semester? Me, neither.
It's times like these that I can't bear letting go. I don't leave because I know that the moment I do, the holiday is over. We called today Sanity Day.
Does that mean that when I leave, I have to go crazy again?
astera at 12:29 a.m.