?

I wish my future grew like tree leaves in late spring, spread across the blue sky in a blanket so vast that only the stars escape jealousy.

I wish my future was a series of numbers jotted down on a napkin or cave wall from some feeble existence or in the mind of an astrophysicist who will never ever let them fall forgotten.

I wish the path wasn't created from tangled curls trapping the grime and doubt at the nape of my neck in the ridiculous hope that I can brush it all aside.

I wish the path was full of Zach's stumbles that masquerade as beautiful pirouettes in a fading sun that has never seen rape, that has never felt fear, that has never wondered

what do I do next?

____________________________________________


::sigh::
what do I do about this year's summer housing situation? Somehow spitting out words that don't make sense to anyone else hasn't really helped.

(in case anyone becomes alarmed, the rape references is not a reference to anything that's happened to me so far.)