t-h-i-c-k-e-t

certain impulses are good comfortable impulses that don't have a name. i'm hot and tired so i took my shirt off to make myself feel better. good impulse.

i wanted cherries all day and when i got home at eight thirty i ate half a pound of them. there were more bugs on and around me today than have been since i don't know when. i wonder why anyone does the things that they do that don't match up with how they feel. i feel like usually it's weakness or laziness. pigerrimus-a-um. i wish i knew or i could understand, but so few people like to explain their thoughts or feelings about certain subjects, which confuses me since human beings are naturally selfish, which isn't always necessarily a bad thing at all. i hate being sensitive because sometimes it feels like everyone around me is ten times less sensitive and if i get upset about something it makes me feel bad about being upset about something that "society" is telling me i shouldnt feel bad about. certain people always want explanations and in turn i get upset if i can't explain myself. it's a bad feeling when someone makes you feel bad about what you have to say. over and over and overly sensitive

the other day it was burning devil hot outside and i sat with hummus and chips alone and thought about one of the first times i hung out with matt because he introduced me to hummus. today i hung out with devon and so much about it reminded me of that hummus day. i told devon to walk towards my house and that i would walk toward him and i started late again and he was already almost on my street by the time i started, like matt was more than two years ago. we walked to an open grassy place and sat there. when i first met matt he didn't play little games with me like i feel like he does now, now that i know him less. and when i first met devon i felt like he played more games like that and now it is easy to talk to him.

moving through that space was mesmerizing. there are few places in moorestown that stay hidden from someone who has lived there for a few years at least, much less someone who has lived there her whole life (me). looking into the sun and seeing all those insects and motes of dust floating and running with the wind blew my mind like i was in a dream. i don't think i've ever seen so much dust in so many shafts of light at once in person before and it was like seeing a huge cosmic whirlwind life happening before my eyes, behind devon's beard. not to mention it was a near perfect day weather-wise and there were literally no clouds in the sky all day which also freaked me out like i was in a dream again. or as if, for my whole life, i havent experienced the outside ever. it was a good feeling, but being with devon was also weird because our conversations seemed like there were things that we could have talked about that would have felt better but we didn't.

usually when i stay awake at night i'm thinking or waiting or dwelling on something. i should add dwelling to my hobbies because i dwell all the time, i couldn't even say whether or not i enjoy it, i don't necessarily have to enjoy a habit. i slouch with all the dwell saturated on my vertebrae. each knot in my back has had its own individual reason for having been knotted. i feel so disconnected from each reason i could cry. i remember what it's like to have heavily weighted shoulders. i cried when i heard oliver james for the first time in so long, that was sudden. on the kitchen table that your grandfather did make.

the salt on my lips matches how they sting