the stacks of boxes in her room get higher and higher, yet there is no sense of disruption in mine. it looks just as it did yesterday. black converse and tan socks beside the trash can. CDs and izone photographs on my desk. empty shoe box, old LA weekly, pile of clothes. i opened the fridge and saw the unopened loaf of bread and bottle of apple juice and thought, i should eat that before i go.
there’s so much i should be doing, but i can’t find any energy. i couldn’t even motivate myself to make a pot of coffee. i just ate leftover soup and watched felicity and wrote incomplete sentences in my polka-dotted journal.
i know i can’t keep putting everything off until tomorrow.