Fever talk. Melodrama.
The snow is thinning. I can feel the blackness of spring. Everyone on Instagram is in Florida. The only writing I got done all week is journaling. I don’t know anyone and I don’t know myself. Myself! Oh jesus. Why do people talk to me? Why does anyone want to talk, ever. Nothing ever happens directly anymore, we’re all smeared somewhere between text and talk. Meanings and intentions. Intentions. Intentions. What are your intentions. Do you intend on having any intentions?
You are not nice. I want to take that back. (You are not nice.)
I don’t have to be my best self all the time but I want to try to be good.
A few months ago I wrote and put together my first poetry chapbook. I sent the manuscript off and 9 hours later it was picked up for publication.
It is called “Everyone In Your Dream Is You” and is available for purchase online! (Or, for those of you in Toronto, you can grab a copy from Knife Fork Book in Kensington Market. Although I don’t think they have copies yet. I don’t even have copies yet.)
I’ll be doing a reading on March 9th. I have until March 9th to practice how to say words right. I no talk good when scared.
ANyway. Wow. FEels good to finally share that with you! Thank you for all the support you’ve given me along the way. U my day 1s. I have to go write an essay now it’s due tmrw. Ttyl ❤