Can I skip the first class period? is that a thing?

About to go to class. First class of the semester. I would prefer not to.

I don't feel well. I am a terrrrrrrrible creative writer, so taking a class may be a good thing? But I am a truly awful creative writer, so this is probably just going to be incredibly embarrassing.

Heavy hands on the edge of the desk. The sharp edge digs into the heel of my palm. Fingers fidget on black keys waiting for something to inspire them, but nothing comes of it. Always. Never.

Augh.

Tune in next time...

Schooooooool.
It returns on the morrow, and I want absolutely nothing less.
My present dilemma is thus: I am supposed to have read a book this summer. Ha!
I regret to inform you, Professor, that I, a super-senior English major, read no books at all this summer. I did read many works of fiction by independent writers online (read: PWP fic), a great stack of young adult novels that I am ashamed to acknowledge, and the first page of The Great Gatsby. Sum total of my reading.
I watched so much TV, though. I can run you through script after script after script after script, if you like. I think it counts as literature, don't you? It's very creative.

Okay, so perhaps I exaggerate just a bit. I did read a lot of books this summer, but it was all in one great spurt, and none of them really qualify as 'collegiate' reading. I am not disparaging YA lit, but I fear my classmates or, more troublingly, my professor, will.

Will I lie?
Will I be truthful?

I won't.

Close.

And the moment stretches out for hours.

listen to my thumping heart

stare into the glimmering dust

a shaky breath

taste it

ghosting in the glow between me and you

So close.

The window rattles. Sit back. 

But that just happened. Don't forget it.

Tired.

So I have been purposefully staying up very late because I constantly feel that I am leaving something unfinished.

What that something is I cannot tell you, because I do not know it. At any rate, I keep the sort of hours that should let me sleep until noon, but that I cannot do either. I have to take my sisters to school.

Suffice to say that I am constantly exhausted and all the joy has been sucked out of me.

Maybe I'll go to bed earlier.

He in the pit

The little one
She is perfect.

She is the light.
She is our hope.
She is my life.

Stay back
Keep away

Don't dim
Don't tarnish
Don't crush

Innocence.

Breathing my air

Around me is a wall that lets nothing out and nothing in.

The air in here is stifling.

My thoughts are my own thoughts.

My feelings are my own feelings.

I am cut off.

This is me reaching out to get to you:

I don't think it worked.

This is me trying very hard to connect with you:

Nothing? I didn't think so.

Around me is a wall. I want to send me out. I want to let you in.

The air in here is choking me.

My thoughts chase my own thoughts.

My feelings confuse my own feelings.

I am cut off.

It doesn't matter what I thought

This isn't even a fandom thing. I tried to conjure up a scenario to channel it through, but I couldn't find one in my mental catalog, so this is just me being pissed.

Or maybe just sad.

See, I thought we were friends.
Talking friends.
Maybe not confiding friends or secret-telling friends, but actual friends.
Guess not.
(maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion)
(maybe I'm being immature)
(maybe I'm just wrong)

You came to town and you told my brother.
You planned to visit and he knew and I didn't.
Apparently when you have time you talk to him and not me.

In fact...when you called that once, were you intending to reach him and your finger slipped?
You seemed surprised and not that eager to talk.
Yeah. That was probably a mistake.
Well then.

(I could be blowing this out of proportion)
(I could be being immature, and how's that for phrasing)
(I could just be wrong)
(I hope I am wrong about you)
(because I thought)
I thought we were friends.
Actual friends.
Guess not.