i went to the registrars office this morning, during my usual coffee run, to finally, after all this time, be reinstated. as i left, receipt in hand, i was confused by the lack of overabundant joy that had been present the last time this reinstatement had been attempted, feeling, instead, a sinking hollowness within my chest. as i drove away, i resisted the urge to crumple such a validating papers within my hands, letting it fly away on the cool morning breeze of mountain maytime. 

at least i know i'll never sleep at night, i'll always lie awake until the morning light.. 

yesterday was such a fun day i've grown to love transition days, really, at least, state college transition days, the deconstruction of an old life and the settling into the in between, the traveling state. i LOVE these times in my life, the times when my life is in my car, i'm homeless at the moment, and it feels, so. comfortable. the most essential components of my life are stowed away within my jetta, piled in the corner of michelle's new summer sublet. my furniture looks safe, at home, here. while i'm free as a gypsy, in motion in motion in motion. ani difranco was my farewell song for 719, as i pulled out of its driveway for the last time, chelsea holding wayne in her arms and waving from the back porch.. for the first time, in over a year, i feel like myself, again.

(insert, two days ago

i'm standing in my kitchen, listening to reckoning, and feeling as if i'm standing here, for the first time. this is the place i've spent the past year in, and it still feels foreign. these counters, those doors, have i lived here? and if it wasn't i, who was this girl, in my place? this girl for whom these walls reeked of home? they never reeked of home, at least i'll admit that, but still, this foreignness is almost eerie. 

my eyes are trained on a copper penny, face up, on the floor. 

i'm thinking of all this time i spent here, how broken, miserable, i was, here. obsessively cleaning each and every counter top, every dish, as if this one, last attempt would wipe away the grime, filth and guilt of my past; 

reaching out to each roommate, in the hopes of developing a spark of a relationship that might ease the healing of the scars of ages past. 

who was that girl, who leaped over the railing of the porch barefoot, breaking down in hysterical sobs in the side lawn? that was the last time, i can remember showing emotion, in this house; until saturday, when chelsea approached me, sitting, a stranger to myself in a foreign home, sobbing to such an extent, that even formulating it in words wouldnt be able to remove the depth of such a sadness.  

nothing was ever true, here.  

i'm standing here, in a pair of pumps i took from my mom ( win or lose, just that you choose this little war is what kills you, and either or its that this war is maybe also what thrills you.) realizing, that i'm losing everything i've ever known. this is act three, and as I stand here, alone in this darkened kitchen with only the hum of my ever present music to keep me company, its all, finally, truly, falling away.

and whats most startling, is that i let it.)  

alone, in my car, windows down, music playing, my favorite teal coat draped over my shoulders, even homeless, i felt a homecoming settling itself within my being. I FEEL LIKE MYSELF AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN GOD KNOWS HOW LONG AND ITS THE MOST INCREDIBLY UPLIFTING, INCANDESCENT FEELING I'VE EVER EXPERIENCED. this is better than falling in love, i say that with complete and utter honesty. "what is beautiful about man is that he is an overcoming and a going under," or so nietzsche says, albeit more fluently.  

love is all over the place, there's nothing wrong, with your face.  

i ran up to michelles house, bags in tow, beaming. she was sitting on the porch with a friend of hers, pat, and her new neighbor, a small elf like ceramics major named sam, and even in my exhausted, tired state, the two of us ended up huddled on her back porch, "its always so refreshing, in this town, to meet good, real people," he drawls, taking a drag of his cigarettte. i'm still amazed, the way its always recognized, instantly, the real, the unreal.  

he speaks of his frat, "i'm not really active anymore,"  

pat, michelle's friend has joined us on the porch, "its a hell of a good time, though. the most fun you'll ever have, i daresay." "but you could never handle it again," pat adds. 

we all laugh "sounds exactly like what i just went through.."  

is this a right of passage, for people like us? this terrible barrage of absurdity, of an accidental absorption of other peoples values, necessitated to engineer the strength to live the way we do, no rules, no limits, transcending duality. 

this morning, i wake up on my lounge in michelle's apartment. she's just gotten back from her physical, is getting ready to go running, and i'm still wrapped up in a generous aura of comfort, of safety. our afternoon consists of target and walmart adventures, and then an evening spent drinking wine, making cookies, and potting plants; yes, the boys too. 

"god we're gonna have to drink beer and watch football or something," pat laughs, but you can tell the way he's secretly reveling in the indulgence of his feminine side. thats the difference, you see. between girlishness, and femininity. i'm thinking of the waitress who served us at the ale house, and how beautifully feminine her body was, and how, for the first time, thats the ideal that i'm aspiring to. beauty, not perfection.  

alright alright, enough of this. its a beautiful day. time to shower and take to the porch, book in hand. this is the first day, of the rest of your life.