i miss everything

rereading old journals lately.

november 9th, 2008

it's late, and my mind is filled with wispy bits and curlicues.
i want to clean my room and draw, with watercolors and bristol board
but i'm terribly lazy, and i have to get up for class in only a few hours.

my creativity has died recently.
i can't seem to settle down to drawing or painting or reading.
perhaps i'll hold a funeral for it -
i could wear a black dress and gloves,
and paint a beauty mark on my cheek.
and everyone would tiptoe around me, and whisper
'she's in mourning.'

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