This week has been something.

I went from crying for seven straight hours to not crying at all. It may not seem like a world altering change, but when your eyes are suddenly unpuffy and nobody’s asking you what you’ve been drinking for the whole week, it makes a bit of a difference.

I was stuck with an English essay that provoked procrastination from every crevice of my being. The essay topic was alright, but one of the short stories that we were working on just…ah, it did nothing for me. It was (a) more of a novella than a short story, (b) had a rapist as the narrator on moral authority. I just got very tired reading it. It’s an excellently written story, though. I think that everything happening in my country about rape culture at the moment made me a little apprehensive.

I just submitted my essay a whole 12 hours before it’s due. I’m feeling quite accomplished. (This is a lie. I am not.)

I’ve got a little bit of time tonight because I am neglecting my law & philosophy readings. I feel as though my room is conspiring against me: My doorknob sliced my finger when I entered, and now it won’t stop showing me that in less time than I can adequately comprehend, I will have been alive for eighteen years.

Eighteen doesn’t seem like a long time, and birthdays don’t seem like a big deal, but if you’ve been around this little corner of the internet, you’ll know that I don’t do well with birthdays. The ABEC (Annual Birthday Existential Crisis) comes to town a month before my birthday, usually. Being the Americanest American to ever American, my birthday is on July 4th. (The bitch is early this year.)

I think this has all started because I’m listening to my favourite music from 2013. I loved Lorde in 2013. Everything she sang made sense to me. In 2013, I was a 15 year old in 10th grade struggling with physics dating a twin boy. I wanted to dance more than anything, I wanted to sit on tennis courts with my then-boyfriend and his brother, my then-best friend and our little clan, drinking out of paper cups. I wanted to be able to describe my year as the feeling of wind on your hand when you stick your arm out of the car window on a roadtrip.

Today, in 2016, I’m still faking glory. I’m trying to convince myself that when the lights come on, I’ll be ready. I have been ready, for the most part. I’ve fooled everyone into thinking I have been, at least. Every day is a pill tipped back, every day a brand new story. Everything is for the applause, in the most selfish way possible. Does that make any sense?

I’m walking to 18 slowly, and it’s running at me. I’m trying to find my own bravado before it crashes into me.

I’m also going to move to New York in 3-ish years.

Love and light,
shalom xo

featured image from this 8tracks mix

4 thoughts on “Bravado

  1. matttblack42 says:

    “I’m also going to move to New York in 3-ish years.”

    YEEESSSSS! New York is awesome. I assume you mean New York City, but there is also a wonderful upstate area where I live that you could totally visit. You could go apple-picking! Or hiking! We also make some kickass cider donuts.

    • Shalom 🎇 says:

      Okay.Gotta stack this reply because EXCITE.
      1. I do mean New York City, but my disgracefully empty pocket (like, I have the equivalent of $6 in my account. JOY.) is calling me to look further upstate. ALSO BLOGGER MEETUP? I don’t know if you’ll still be blogging in three years but I like to keep my internet friends regardless.
      2. Oooh. Declarations. Wanna be internet pals?
      4. Why do Americans leave out half of the letters when they spell “doughnuts”?

      • matttblack42 says:

        1) Well, the town of Binghamton where I’ll be going to college (hopefully I won’t have flunked out by then. *fingers crossed*) supposedly has really cheap housing, so go there! (Of course Binghamton is a small city in the middle of nowhere while New York City is like, the cultural capital of the world, so you probably shouldn’t listen to me.) I don’t know if I’ll still be blogging in three years, but if I am I’d totally be open for a meetup! We could meet in times square, and I’d be carrying a giant sign saying “Shalom!” and you’ll be carrying a giant sign saying “Mattt!”

        2) Pfft, internet pals are lame. Wannabe Internet Buddies?

        3) You cannot be shown the magic of cider donuts. You can only taste the magic.

        4) I think the there are two reasons. The first being the rise of the doughnut & coffee chain shop called Dunkin’ Donuts, (there’s at least two of them in every town, it seems.) and then there’s the fact that Americans have a strong dislike of silent letters, and the entire “ugh” sound in “doughnut” is unnecessary, and just a hassle to type. Three extra letters? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

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