It's 5:07pm, May 3rd

Someone from my graduating class is here. It's her weekend, I bet. She works a real job somewhere that anyone would be proud to work.

I hang clothes.

It makes me sick. My eyes hurt so I ended up hiding in the back to take an Advil.

Now I'm ducking between racks and desks--I hope she doesn't see me. I wanted to be better than this.

And here's the thing:

I feel like my life has stopped. Like it froze somewhere last May and I never picked it back up again. I guess I should just say that this place and this person and these things are not what I want to be.

I keep thinking about trains and getting on one. I want to take it to the end of the line until I have to learn how to say the name of the place I'm in. I think that sounds like the best idea I've ever had.

Except that's all, right? It just sounds like that. I would hate it if I did it. I miss community and adventure and the idea that my life was going somewhere worth talking about. But getting on some train or plane won't bring that back.

I guess I just need to write another movie.

it's 3:19pm, May 1st

Today the air smelled like my last day of 10th grade. Shotgun in my brother's car, wearing a floral dress my best friend made fun of me for. Class had let out early on account of it being our last day, and the sun seemed brighter and hotter than it had all year.

He was playing Arcade Fire. And we had to wait in a line of cars to exit the parking lot. Much like leaving a packed concert or sports game. I had the windows rolled down and I could hear snippets of conversation from the students passing by.

But instead I'm walking alone down a crowded street, sweat sticking to a shirt I didn't even own back then. I don't know why it feels the same.

it's 3:16pm, April 30th

I'm on my lunch break. I keep your notes tucked between the first two pages of Mother Night. It's getting a little full though, I might have to expand to some of the other pages.

Today my train halted on the tracks so that it wouldn't hit any of the construction workers painting the median. The kid next to me was doing his Japanese homework in the same Genki texbook I used to practice in. And it's funny because just yesterday I was looking into the best way to pick up learning Japanese again.

We were stopped in that train for over ten minutes

I was eight minutes late to work. When I called to tell them I wouldn't be on time, they said "oh, well, I guess we'll just see you when you get here." Which I thought was strange because I have never been late even once.

What did they have to be upset about anyway?