I haven’t stayed up this late since college or maybe it was sooner
I just wasn’t paying attention.
It’s 6:15 am on a Sunday morning and I saw the sunrise
covered in a white shawl
like my love life in mourning
but where people dress all in white, not in black
to celebrate.
Like how I will wear a rainbow dress or a colorful suit on my wedding day
to truly reflect
who I am
inside.
Caps Lock and Auto Correct are both a curse and a blessing; so is pulling an all-nighter.
It’s just me and the silent world, ghost birds and distant early traffic.
It’s just me and my lonely heart
empty of all the the racket.
I have given away my favorite college leather jacket
the one with the red yarn
woven on its sleeves,
but it was time
to say goodbye.
Hello adulthood
captured in lockdown
hidden under blue medical masks and KN95 and hand sanitizer and face shields and endless new cycles on TV.
It’s funny how chill the universe seems
under the guise of no sleep.
I forget how this will affect me, maybe it will tear me apart, maybe it will bring me together?
I am weak from the journey my body’s taking me on, a head spin from 1960s, 1970s and 1980s rock to late 90s and 00s emo and strange music that has no genre yet.
I found out that Tool music videos are mini horror films and I cannot stand it or sit through it.
Stanley Kubrick was my fascination last night, as was QAnon and Incel and conspiracy theories and Kdramas and Korean manga and fantasy comics including witches with their hair chopped off. That’s a wrap!
What is “emo” anyways? Emotional?
Yes, I’ve always been emotional and hyper-sensitive and an empathy and a simpatico person. Who will be my match now, after the tables have turned? After the fire has gone out? Who will light my Olympic flames once again and burn me bright?
I have no idea, but I’m ready to find out…