I'm tired.
Zonked tired waking-up-with-ink-over-my-cheek-haven't-slept-properly-since-I used to live in Toronto (before the big Korea move) TIRED.
LIKE whoah!!!!
I can't wait for Friday to come.
There I was. Holding old, 85p strawberries from the International Foods Market down the scrubbiest street in the UK. Telling the seller they were too old and rancid to be sold for 85p.
"Who's going to buy them?!?!" I ask holding 3 packs and intending to buy. all. three.
He smiles.
I will.
Yah. I will. Because only an insane person can't see they're outraged about something they're just about to do...while still being incredibly enraged about it.
That's kinda how I live my love life. Holding strawberries that are kinda...well....going bad...realizing they're going bad and ...buying them anyways.
It isn't that I expect them to be good. It isn't that I can't see I'm compromising on the quality.
I know they're shitty.
But they used to be 3 for 1 quid in their prime when they were all shiny and glossy and just brought in from Huelva.
They used to cost so little and they used to last so long.
An acquaintance of mine says I narrate my life. That it's all literature. I think it's all become economics.
Once the strawberries start going bad, get the hell outta there.
Save the 85p.
Buy smarties.
On another note, I'll be in Istanbul in less than a week.
Sunny skies and smiles that go for miles await.
I ruptured a connection I had with someone I cared about.
It was dwindling. It was barely there. He was around though. We'd speak. Talk here and there. I said no more.
I feel relieved. A little more like myself. There's no more nagging wonder. There's nothing left there.
I did this before I realized the strawberry mess. Maybe things are looking up.
Maybe I'm learning more about my weaknesses. Maybe I'm learning more about my strengths.
I learned something really good. I know never to take less than I want just because I'm bound by my past.
My golden, sepia toned elusive mysterious inviting delicious past that paints over the real pictures in gold leaf.
Shitty strawberries that are going to cost more than they're worth is not cutting it anymore.
So what if they wear their hearts on their sleeves? On their skins?
All strawberries do. And some are just better than others.
I'll be in Toronto in three weeks. For a while until I start again. I'd put up pictures of my friends leaving, Anna packing up her flat, me crying over packing Anna up, etc etc etc.
After spending the weekend in London with her fam, I'm too tired of goodbyes. I wish our planet was smaller, that I was bigger. That my spirit could match my body's capacity for movement.
Cuz I dunno which isn't keeping up.
Zonked tired waking-up-with-ink-over-my-cheek-haven't-slept-properly-since-I used to live in Toronto (before the big Korea move) TIRED.
LIKE whoah!!!!
I can't wait for Friday to come.
There I was. Holding old, 85p strawberries from the International Foods Market down the scrubbiest street in the UK. Telling the seller they were too old and rancid to be sold for 85p.
"Who's going to buy them?!?!" I ask holding 3 packs and intending to buy. all. three.
He smiles.
I will.
Yah. I will. Because only an insane person can't see they're outraged about something they're just about to do...while still being incredibly enraged about it.
That's kinda how I live my love life. Holding strawberries that are kinda...well....going bad...realizing they're going bad and ...buying them anyways.
It isn't that I expect them to be good. It isn't that I can't see I'm compromising on the quality.
I know they're shitty.
But they used to be 3 for 1 quid in their prime when they were all shiny and glossy and just brought in from Huelva.
They used to cost so little and they used to last so long.
An acquaintance of mine says I narrate my life. That it's all literature. I think it's all become economics.
Once the strawberries start going bad, get the hell outta there.
Save the 85p.
Buy smarties.
On another note, I'll be in Istanbul in less than a week.
Sunny skies and smiles that go for miles await.
I ruptured a connection I had with someone I cared about.
It was dwindling. It was barely there. He was around though. We'd speak. Talk here and there. I said no more.
I feel relieved. A little more like myself. There's no more nagging wonder. There's nothing left there.
I did this before I realized the strawberry mess. Maybe things are looking up.
Maybe I'm learning more about my weaknesses. Maybe I'm learning more about my strengths.
I learned something really good. I know never to take less than I want just because I'm bound by my past.
My golden, sepia toned elusive mysterious inviting delicious past that paints over the real pictures in gold leaf.
Shitty strawberries that are going to cost more than they're worth is not cutting it anymore.
So what if they wear their hearts on their sleeves? On their skins?
All strawberries do. And some are just better than others.
I'll be in Toronto in three weeks. For a while until I start again. I'd put up pictures of my friends leaving, Anna packing up her flat, me crying over packing Anna up, etc etc etc.
After spending the weekend in London with her fam, I'm too tired of goodbyes. I wish our planet was smaller, that I was bigger. That my spirit could match my body's capacity for movement.
Cuz I dunno which isn't keeping up.
 |
| three weeks. Home. home home home. |
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