Slightly Bitter And Homesick

It's a lazy saturday afternoon and there's nothing much to do.

I'm sitting in my dorm, slowly sipping an excessively large cup of coffee, trying not to burn my toungue. If I were not hopelessly addicted to coffee, I would be discusted at what American have the nerve to call a 'medium'.

Etas-Unis. Pah. D'accord, Je vais manger croissants et boire vin rouge en paix parce-que les autres sont stupide.

I'm playing "Dry The Rain" by The Beta Band. Christ, I love this song.

My lights are turned off. I've been in my room for hours, it's only just occured to me to turn on room lights.

I'm feeling a bit homesick, regreting that I decided not to come home to go to my cousin's wedding. I have a paper to write, but it will only take me a couple of hours to finish. The rest is an empty whole of boredom. I know if I decided to go to the wedding, the paper would never get done. I wouldn't even be home. I wouldn't get to see friends. I wouldn't even know anyone at the wedding except for a few family members. I'd probably kick myself for going, but fuck I'm homesick.

Things here aren't even that bad. I just miss home.

Everyone seems to be gone. There will be things to go to at night, movies, dance performances and school clubs. But the afternoon is dead.

---

If I had a super power, it wouldn't be anything of use.

It would be terribly selfish in fact.

Forget x-ray vision or flight.

I would have the power to change the weather according to my mood.

Sunny days are so shallow.

Brooding must be inflicted on it.

It doesn't realize how stupid it looks.

All sunny and bright, who the fuck does it think it is?

Deep wounds bleeding grey clouds on a blue sky.

Veins of lightning, veils of rain.

Washing away the heat of the sun.

The skys would growl doom.

People running, cowering under sheets of newspapers.

Mud sucking at shoes, leaves shivering with fear.

In my mind the image is fantastic.

Beautiful in a sort of way.

Yet reality is all annoyingly indifferent.

My moods do not control the weather.

But they should.

The blue just smiles and tells me there is no point in this.

That life goes on without me, so shut the fuck up.

My moods do not control the weather.

But they should.



Until Later,

Sondra