a rhetorical nightmare:

It’s a Monday, late. My face is looking as weighted as I feel. A stranger even said so! A little pissed that this adorable town can’t keep any warm place open past 10 for a girl to read a damn book and write. Mostly though, I feel wilted. (but all too emo for saying that, if we’re being honest)

I have a hard time with things that aren’t fair. And unfortunately, much of the time the unfairnesses of life are quite out of our control.

I feel like I should be channeling this state I’m in into some brilliant and poetic prose, or a stunning piece of art. Or if I should choose to ‘talk things over’ with someone close by I’m certain it would turn into some rhetorical nightmare, me- rapidly shuffling through uncertainties and what-ifs and why-the-hells.. I’d be talking, not looking for a response, but just a wall, really, to hurl my questioning frustrations at.

But more honestly, what feels the best right now is sipping this tea and listening to the drums wailing from my tiny speaker and looking at things green and growing and dressed up in holiday twinkle lights (thank you, City of Monrovia) and just letting everything absorb. not for the purpose of churning it all out again in a vigorous act of rebuttal to these things unfair, but letting it absorb just for the sake of acceptance of the way things are.