I wanted to write about sexual masochism, but I can't write what I don't know.
What I do know is how it feels
when every day is the same.
When you make it to campus and
the one person you want to avoid
is the one who won't let you
leave him alone. You should respond when spoken to,
but you really don't want to.
When you just remembered that on
top of the homework you've written down,
you have groceries to buy, money
to make, emails to respond to, the list goes on—
a hydra of tasks that multiply
endlessly when you cross one off
but you can't leave your list untouched;
sanity is already on the line
and you can only try to salvage
it by acting like you're doing something.
It doesn't matter how much you
have to do as long as you have to do something.
When you want to skip class but
that would require admitting the unspeakable.
The routine goes on and takes you
with it and you pretend it's okay
but it's not, damn it, it's not.
When your scrawled future plans
choke you and you feel the weight of
decisions you haven't made and
this is the hell of a reality you don't want.
You don't want to add to his
worries but you tell him anyway,
and when you leave you feel sorry
for doing it and you worry.
You don't know if he knows that
you love him not in spite of his past
but because of who he is and you
want to help but you don't know how.
When you drag yourself to class
anyway because if you don't go
you'll worry you missed something
important. Your insecurities hit you
right when everything else crumbles
and you've got to hold it together, damn it.
There is no other choice.
When you have more to write but
this math will never make sense
unless you pay attention, because
the last math class you took was in high school
and that was a long time ago and
you need a break.
So you just keep writing because
you love your life but not today
and you are going to lose it.
Damn it, you're losing it.
When you've got to keep your shit
together because you have to peak publicly
in seventy-six minutes and it
will suck but you have to do it.
You wouldn't have missed anything
if you hadn't gone to class,
except you missed what was said
and you miss the days last week
when you thought you had it
together and you've got to keep it together but
today isn't even halfway over—in
six more weeks you'll get three off
but that's an eternity away. You
hope it's glorious, but who knows.
When you want to take a mental
health day but you can't, damn it, you can't.
You can only blame your watery
eyes on the change in the weather,
and write what you know.
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