Today.

There is a few hour break between my music theory class from 9-10 am and my Interpersonal Communications class from 1 pm to 2:30 pm. 

On Mondays, my favorite place to get food is closed, which makes Mondays even worse, but at least I never work on Mondays. Honestly, Tuesdays are my worst days with classes from 9 am until 4:15, followed by work from 5-10 pm, as a simple INFJ waitress who absolutely dislikes most people and has social anxiety. (But honestly, what other job could I work 20-30 hours a week and pull in $200-$300 a week?) None. I’m the self-supporting hard-working, stiff-nosed, jaded go-getter who just wants to crawl back home and rewind 2 weeks back to spring break when all that was due by tomorrow was sleep.

Regardless of all of the lovely facets of my life that I deal with and attempt with steadfastness each day, it is the first day of spring. I could feel that it was by the songbird’s mellifluous tangents at 6:30 am. The sun is out. The sky is a robin egg blue, bespeckled with cumulous puffs. There is a slight haze, reminiscent of humidity, downplayed by a cold breeze that I imagine hails from a grand ice hall from the arctic north where trolls hide in caves and wildflowers bloom in the rural valleys juxtposed amongst the white-tipped mountains.

These thoughts help me get through the day.

I found lunch. Chicken strips are just a utensil for eating ketchup. My college is downtown so the royal hum of stop-go cars is unending. The whistles and shameless bird chirpings that started this morning haven’t stopped.

I don’t like anyone, so I went outside to eat ketchup. Besides, I don’t need anyone wondering why I need four little portion cups of the stuff. They don’t know it is the blood of my enemies, and they never shall. *hisses like a cat before scurrying away*

I am out here freezing my nuts off at a picnic table outside school in jovial tranquility and solitude when I noticed the fervent buds in fervent bloom on the small trees aligned in reverence before a wavering American flag. My middle fingers are chalky white from the chill thanks to poor circulation and Reynaud’s or whatever. I looked it up on the internet, and I trust the internet more than I trust people sometimes.

My boyfriend isn’t at school on Mondays, and I dislike talking to everyone else except him and my two best friends- Hailey and Abby, both of whom I only just met this past year. I feel anxious upon that realization. Both of my best friends I met this past year? I have lived about 27 previous ones haven’t I? And yet, I never made a girl friend to confide in until the past year… I think that’s almost frightfully uncharacteristic of me. I can’t make any more friends for another 266 days because it is March 20th.

The end.