today is almost offensively mild.
the bathroom is sunny and marbled. tiny rivulets run over my hands. the faucet's water isn't cold, and i'm still not used to that.
once dried, i adjust my hair and face in the mirror, fingers brushing against my eyebrows, cheeks.
suddenly, it all comes together, twist-tie threads into one large knot, and my head snaps back. i am not a high school student anymore.
how can this be? i am loose and fluid-looking. when did that spring unwind?
(you know the one. the one in your spine, taut and uncomfortable. you can feel it the most during junior year nights that are not quite stressful enough to remember.)
suddenly the flight and the big boxes and the absence of parents is not just a fun little aside it is loud and bright and i am alone in california and the maturity of it hurts to look at-
inhaleinhaleinhaleinhale 3,000 miles and i am alone in this room oh god oh christ-
i try smiling. it is like that pamphlet on a table in an admissions office. it is like projecting when you speak and projects worth 30% of my grade, fluency and professionalism and pounding bass. oh ****, dorothy, we sure aren't in kansas anymore.
no more electric scents before a summer storm. no more nose-nipping winds. even the gray days look like cousins of those in boston, not twins.
no more chickadees.
how do i tell everyone that the air smells different here?
just typed this one out a little. very open to feedback, it's more a collection of ideas than anything.