Monday, July 6, 2009

In narrative form


I looked out my window. The air-conditioner started producing condensation, which was slowly creeping up on my view of the only green I see all day. Behind me, per usual, was my roommate and his friend playing some game on the TV, discussing different button coordination techniques in order to achieve a better level in the game. I sit at my desk, half being productive, half wandering with my mind outside. My mind wanders to the birds in the trees ( who start chirping at a lovely 4:00 AM), the things I need to pack, the garbage I need to throw away.. All of these things seem so menial, and yet, these million things are the only ones I can seem to have running around in my head.
As my new neighbor walks by, I hear her shoes come up the metal walkway to her apartment. I have hoped in vain to have her be a distraction, so that I might be able to think about what really needs to be done. She walks, uneventfully, to her door, and opens and shuts it before I have a chance to play nosey neighbor and look around my curtains.
I am discouraged, and sigh heavily as the symptoms of my slight yet ever annoying cold start creeping up. My head aches, my ear hurts, my throat is scratchy. All I wanted today was cold water for my throat, and for the drilling pain behind my temples to stop. Of course my body would rebel against me when I am to go on a trip soon. Of course. I blow my nose, and give up on the fact that my immune system is not made of super cells, and that I might need some medicine after all. Crap.
After coming back to my desk, the realization that I am going on a trip hits me. I will be away from work, from school, from Tallahassee for 10 days, and yet, all I can think about is how alone I will feel. I won't have someone to share inside glances with when I see something funny. I wont have the comfort of my boyfriend as he pulls me close in the night. All the things I love most about him are the things that I will miss, and it starts to get to me. My head hurts more now, thinking about this, so I turn to something more manageable to think about. Laundry.

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