Tuesday, March 18, 2003


Many a day I can't find a face. There's nothing to look for in the mirror and nothing that I really wholeheartedly offer to anyone else. Just an odd half-dissonant glance while walking fast. I know I must seem so queer some days but the disappointment is on my heels.

I had a test in math followed by a lecture on discrete random variables and then a sharing of opinions next in english, language of the languages, about the lovely little war. I felt gut-expellingly ill half-way through it because I think I hold my breath while writing out essay answers and become dizzy and aphyxiated. Anxiety corrodes my stomach when prolonged. Too much testing. And now orange sherbet and the smell of chlorine fume me up.