She’s got a body like an hour glass
I am busy, forgetful, and exhausted. These are my days. I attend classes and dance for hours and hours. I work. I see Whitney. People come over to my apartment, they get wasted. Sometimes I get wasted. I watch the chaos, I take part. I forget my homework. I forget my debate work. I dance some more. I sleep for hours and hours on end and wake up still exhausted. I run about the restaurant until my feet hardly work the next day, and then I dance on them. I dance through hangovers. I dance through depression and anxiety. I take pills to normalize, and then drink to enhance, and then sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
I’m living the college life that they said I was supposed to, I’m misbehaving and barely scraping by. Don’t you wish you were in my shoes? Maybe you are. Maybe you were, but you’re tired of being there. I’m here. Where are you?
Everything feels like dancing, doesn’t it? A set of choreography through which I stumble, steps that I can’t seem to follow, customs that I don’t know. Sometimes, though, I keep up and when I do it feels so good…
I love this part of relationships. The "everything is new and lovely and I can’t conceive of having and argument with you" part. The part where I buy one-month anniversary presents a few weeks too early, the part where we are with each other every second and it’s so peaceful and regular that I could fall into our affection like a reflecting pond.
I touch her, all soft, all feminine, all woman and wonder how I could have ever wanted something harder, rougher, more masculine. Sometimes, though, I wonder how I could live without it. It’s difficult. I want both, but really you can only have one or the other.
I’m so awkward in this skin, sitting, thinking, "Hmm my stomach feels hollow, perhaps I’m hungry? No, that’s just the pill I swallowed on an empty stomach digesting." Physical cues get confused with neuroses, and I sleep and sleep and sleep.. but I feel normal. Truly normal. Sometimes the panic seeps through it, panic over stupid things, "I never got that book back that she borrowed!" "Do I have to work tomorrow?!" and then a few seconds later it passes like magic. That is not my way. We all know that that is my way. I dwell for days and days until it all breaks down and I’m lost in a lake that I’ve made. I’m learning to swim, I suppose.