46% eyelids

it is 4:48 am

since nine or ten pm i have been cleaning my bedroom in my parents' house and throwing things away. i have often wondered about this, how my space would go from the way it's been-- off-limits war zone, brimming with torn diary pages, boxes upon boxes of relics-- to the way i imagined it in some grim faraway day, when i visited and paged through whatever was left on my bookshelf. i'm moving out of here for good in a few months. i will have my own year-round address in a different city, rent checks to mail, no RAs. i am finding out.

i threw away so many things i thought i'd keep forever
they all seem really stupid, like the plastic man in a bunny suit i won at a friendly's claw machine
like a banana les paix condom from our middle school montreal trip
like notes from people i'm not friends with anymore about things i can't imagine ever having cared about

one thing i found was a collection of poems, loose leaf, peculiarly flat emotionless print. "a haiku for every month i've known you, featuring: things i never told you." i don't remember writing them. tonight i find them incredibly sad.

...february 2006:
"oh, tulips!" i thought--
until, on the seventeenth,
they were roses.

...april 2006:
ocean parkway was
so different in the spring
alive, and so was i

may 2006:
please let me forget
that you once smashed a firefly
with a baseball bat.

october 2006:
honestly, sometimes
i thought if i were skinny
you would love me more...

i have been thinking so much lately about the disintegration of relationships and now i just don't want to anymore. everything is too sad and that's okay, it's okay. cusp of an entirely constructed beginning, today, but belief is everything ain't it? on the train home from manhattan the lights flickered on and off on and off even when we weren't switching tracks. i used to love that, fingersnap fleeting sanctuary. tonight i lit up, i grinned every time, my ipod died i didn't notice