february 4, 2013.
listening to classical music, wishing I was dancing. wishing this essay was over. overhearing girls talk about "ethnic hair" and how people know how to work it. I'm thinking about tomorrow and how hard it will be to get myself out of bed. I'll open my window and stare at amsterdam avenue like I do every morning, convincing myself to get up within in the next 3 minutes. I'll then chose an outfit that will make me feel comfortable enough to hide in but "fierce" enough to protect.
its painful, sitting in front of an illuminated screen and gutting your mind for motivation. or maybe even an idea to start to fester into a sort of motivation. there's always that factor of getting sleep, but lately I've been neglecting the necessity. there's the need to get a good grade, but this only throws me off into tangent of anxious confusion. the future seems too close, so close that you can't even make your eyes focus on it because it's pressed against your fucking nose.
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