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#dailylife
I wish to play forever, Day and night, knitting dreamily, from the morning, making things messy. We became kingly, filling out time easily, just to make my mom angry and let her fingers on my face, helping her exercise freely. My face remains cloudy, making her face gloomy. The play never ends, nor the sportsmen.
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May 5
May 5, 2026 at 5:52 AM UTC
Play of Anger
graceful flying, lighting on petals smooth and soft the fragrance drifts in summer's warmth colored stately purple this beauty rests then soars
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Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 4:01 AM UTC
graceful
Butterflies dance in graceful wonder. Colors fade, seasons fly. The world pauses to stare unblinking At angel's wings, bell nearby. White noise grows, a gentle hum. Hurried hearers softly sigh. Scenes unfold with warmth, hope. It's curtain time, emotions high.
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Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 3:00 AM UTC
The Play
Nothing happened. But everything happened too. You know? "All the nothing, all the everything." Life dripped like spilled mercury across the kitchen tiles. I watched the kettle boil – nothing moved, yet the air thickened as if invisible birds were rehearsing a play in the corners of the room. The cat blinked at me, its eyes twin moons mocking my seriousness, then turned away, unconcerned. Outside, the wind shuffled leaves in patterns that made no sense, and still, I felt the world tilt slightly, as if history had hiccupped while I blinked. Nothing happened. The mail arrived: a postcard from a neighbor I never knew I had. The sun sank, ignoring me. A laugh echoed from a memory I’d misplaced, murmuring truths I wasn’t ready for. And somehow, everything happened too, as if spilled mercury remembered where it wanted to go.
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Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 8:22 AM UTC
Nothing happened. But everything happened too. You know?
Fields stretching out in yellow and green The brilliant blue of the sky joining in the distance A gentle breeze swaying the sunburnt grass The crickets chirruping their piercing songs Tranquillity is all around The clean air fills the lungs As the calm spreads throughout Like a lover’s hand caressing the body Or the warmth of the first hit of ***** Releasing the pain from within All has disappeared And I am one with nature But its permanence is fleeting The cold turkey will kick in And as thoughts flood back The tsunami of angst returns The realities of life
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Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 11:14 AM UTC
The Permanence Of Time Freezing Together As One
No more bicycles: with the tram No more trams: on roller skates until they break On clogs until raids close everything No more electricity No more candles No more stolen oil No more charcoal No more trees No more books only the clothes on one's back No more bread: grinding wheat in the coffee grinder No more wheat: cooking rye grains No more rye: begging tours No more winter coats: worn coats made of blankets curtains on the beds A cold house, hunger and fear, and time that stands still at hope
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Jun 29, 2025
Jun 29, 2025 at 3:10 AM UTC
Occupation
Like soldiers of comically varying heights I line up my pill bottles along the border   of my place mat for morning roll call Some plastic, some glass—   Green, white, purple, yellow, gold Each with their own earnest promise— Energy, metabolism, muscle function,   allergy relief And I earnestly swallow each down Willing each to complete their mission To find success in the battle against time Willing them to bring new life   to this tired body of mine © 2025 SincerelyJoanWrites. All rights reserved.
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Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 8:32 AM UTC
Secular Prayer for Vitality
I woke with too much purpose this morning. I swear it was me who split the dark sky open like pointed steel through wood. The sharp hack of existence hit when I visualized my wallet on the kitchen counter, leaning against that vase with the snake on it. Second in line at the grocery store, cart overflowing.
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Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 8:41 AM UTC
Second in Line
what else are you supposed to do in the suburbs? find everything abandoned and go there at night? thrift shop? idle around the same mall and buy candles, journals, CDs (for your lack of cd player, except in your mom's car)? see the same movie twice (the fire alarm goes off both times)? throw wine bottles at pavement and watch the glass splinter? run around empty ovals? break into baseball fields? go to the same public pool and open your eyes underwater? burn lacy lingerie that you stole from the mall and watch as your femininity sticks, shrivelled, to the pavement? go to school and get the bus home? go to work and come home covered in pizza sauce? hate it till you leave? what else even is there?
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Sep 2, 2024
Sep 2, 2024 at 3:30 AM UTC
what else even is there?
The war in those days was manageable with us -- We were still young then.
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Aug 30, 2023
Aug 30, 2023 at 3:47 AM UTC
[ The war in those days ]
In the broken ages we thrive with words edgier than swords, over the bay window we hear seagulls taunting the waves for another storm. Pavement taking over the woods Treasuring breathable conversations between souls. Then without even a slight sigh the babbling brooks stops in their tracks leaving ****** steps of regret and nightmares of dinner dates. We’ve been waiting and waiting for the rain, like a sigh of relief instead of wishful bliss Whenever people come over, the silver is never shiny enough, the windows not clean, chairs creaky, dust in corners and you’re never fully there. How to please the people of yesterday, tomorrow or today. To invite them into your own home, that may not be a castle or even a cozy cabin. How to please, appeal to the upper crowd or even the town people. The ones with similar shoes as you. What to expect rather than regret, the crippling, snarling inner voice saying “time for bed little you, tomorrow may be your last day of tjoho”
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Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 5:35 PM UTC
To please
When she first met him, He was so slim; A gentleman, To begin. When she first met him. When he first met her, She was so demure; She'd defer, Often concur. When he first met her. She'd smile on him. He'd open doors. She cooked and worked. He worked and cooked. *Good morning, my Dear. Good night, my Love. I got groceries. Did you get milk? I called your Mother. Is your Father okay? Teacher interviews at five. I'll drive. Did you get to the bank? I made an appointment. What's the address? Your sister's on her way*. This was their dialogue On that day. She's kind. He's a find. He's hers. She's his. Ever the twain shall meet.
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Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 12:16 PM UTC
The Twain
If given the chance to have 5 minutes with you, I want to share this with you: Your music keeps me going. You may have heard that sentence a thousand times. So, if you would allow me to paint you a picture. I work in a job I don't like. The job itself is not bad. It's actually very meaningful. I thought meaningful was enough for me. Apparently, it is not; I want it to be both meaningful and something I truly enjoy. Enjoy in a sense that even though it's difficult, it is something I'll wake up for. It's something that would make me forget time. And for me, that is singing, acting, performing, and teaching. But it is not my reality right now. So, every Monday, I drag myself to work. As each day passes, the guilt of being late subsides to none. Sadly, the thought of having a responsibility to other people has become less compelling for me to work. I've spiraled into deeper, and darker realms where I've lost control over my mind and body. And to force myself, a desperate attempt to get up, I play your songs. Next thing I know, I sing your tune, dance to your beat, then the impossible starts to happen. I begin to cook food for myself to eat, I open my laptop, and get started on my emails -- I finally have enough to start my day, to get it going. These maybe simple, mundane things -- but they mean my livelihood, my future, my life. You help me live my life. Thank you for your music. I hope you stay truthful to your tune, to your beat, to your message.
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Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 9:04 AM UTC
To the artists whose songs I listen to
𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑚𝑒? 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛? 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒? 𝑇𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟? 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒. 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔... 𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑦, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡? 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒? 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒? 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡.
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Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
☘︎Live a life☘︎
𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑚𝑒? 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛? 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒? 𝑇𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟? 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒. 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔... 𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑦, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡? 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒? 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒? 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡.
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कुसमयमा मलाई सोधियो "त्यो मुर्ख छ, कसरी व्यवहार गर्ने ?" मैले प्रतीप्रश्न गरे, "के तिमी पक्का छाै कि ऊ मुर्ख छ? [ हो जवाफ आउने प्रवल सम्भावना थियो, म सुन्न तयार थिए ] "हो, सबैलाई यो थाहा छ।" सोही जवाफ आयो सक्छाै भने दूरी बढाउ टाढा बस त्यती सक्दैनै भने.......... "भने के" सोधीहाल्यो भन्दिए, "उ भन्दा मुर्ख बन" "ठूलो मुर्ख देखि, मुर्खपनि डराउछ" फोन राखेको संकेत आयो.......
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Jan 17, 2020
Jan 17, 2020 at 9:27 AM UTC
इतिश्री
You were three blocks away Going to the same destination But you wouldn't stop In the cold and rain Never asked if I needed help Didn't offer a ride which would've Saved me 40 minutes of time And an awkward conversation With a man who invited me back to his I considered his offer Partly out of spite Partly out of hope That he would slash my throat And I wouldn't have to return home I rubbed my cheeks, suddenly grateful No one can tell when you've cried in the rain I guess we've always been three blocks Apart from one another, you and I
0
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
III
Awake in your bed, you scratch at your head. You stir from the sheet, and now on your feet. You walk to the dresser, you want to just test her. Open the drawer, craving for more. Pick up one shot, scared are you not? Just one little pop, your body will drop. It rests at your temple, a sigh as you tremble. Click goes the gun, now having fun? The feeling now faded, life was not traded. The gun put away, you live another day. Was all just a dream? What could this mean?
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Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
A Dream
‘How are you?’ A question people hear more from me, then I hear from them. Doubting whether it’s pure interest, or a habit grown in our systems. Not knowing which lie to tell, or revealing the truth. But not sure if they can handle reality. The need to stop lying is huge, but anxiety for their reactions makes me continue.| Because the seize of this mess is so big, the possibility of unexpected answers there. Fear for loneliness gets me again so, ‘I am okay’ is the answer again.
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Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
Question
the day starts with shirley who comes in just after eight for her 20oz chai "what kind of milk?" "doesn't matter" punches her own coffee card tells me about her puppy kayla is next her hair and makeup always perfect about as nice a landlady as one can have in a town like this from there it's a constant stream of people who i watch out for and who don't know i'm doing it janice lives alone and thinks people are stealing her money doesn't understand the tests her doctors want she can't remember what she always orders it's a turkey club sandwich no bacon on toasted oatmeal regular chips no pickle a to go box for the leftovers and some kind of chocolate treat in a bag because she only eats when she comes in here two weeks ago i accidentally switched barb's 12oz soy chai with someone else's 12oz whole milk chai it wasn't enough dairy to give her a problem in fact she didn't seem to remember it but i made her another for free nic stopped for his afternoon coffee didn't laugh at anything just stared blankly into space and said he thought he was getting sick had too many things to finish the day before when i was waving to him from the parking lot so i took my dog to the back door of his office and we barked until he came out patted us both on the head and said he felt better we're all creatures of habit like mckenna who arrives like clockwork between one thirty and two tuesday through saturday leans on my bake case while i count my tips and add random ingredients to different drinks in a reckless attempt to break up the monotony and he drinks them all like clockwork no matter how bad they are rita doesn't smile since she broke her hip in fact i haven't seen her since walt got sick and he and joan moved upstate to be closer to their son i worry about something happening to ray who will take care of rita? whose laugh used to echo off the walls and fill the place up pat's smoking again and it turns out he has congenital heart failure gail had a fall, a stroke and suddenly died i make the same dumb jokes only a few people smile at i sing to myself and people point it out karen sits in her motorized wheelchair ice and snow dripping from the wheels onto the scratched, muddy floor and tells me i'm pretty and funny and have a beautiful voice and i look at karen, her head tilted to the side and spit hanging from her buck teeth and wonder why such a wonderful funny girl with a heart of gold had to have the body she's stuck in why life is **** and why i'm trying i swear i'm trying fighting for something i don't know what why we fight why we try to make the world a better place when nothing can really change any of these dismal facts
0
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
clockwork
the day starts with shirley who comes in just after eight for her 20oz chai "what kind of milk?" "doesn't matter" punches her own coffee card tells me about her puppy kayla is next her hair and makeup always perfect about as nice a landlady as one can have in a town like this from there it's a constant stream of people who i watch out for and who don't know i'm doing it janice lives alone and thinks people are stealing her money doesn't understand the tests her doctors want she can't remember what she always orders it's a turkey club sandwich no bacon on toasted oatmeal regular chips no pickle a to go box for the leftovers and some kind of chocolate treat in a bag because she only eats when she comes in here two weeks ago i accidentally switched barb's 12oz soy chai with someone else's 12oz whole milk chai it wasn't enough dairy to give her a problem in fact she didn't seem to remember it but i made her another for free nic stopped for his afternoon coffee didn't laugh at anything just stared blankly into space and said he thought he was getting sick had too many things to finish the day before when i was waving to him from the parking lot so i took my dog to the back door of his office and we barked until he came out patted us both on the head and said he felt better we're all creatures of habit like mckenna who arrives like clockwork between one thirty and two tuesday through saturday leans on my bake case while i count my tips and add random ingredients to different drinks in a reckless attempt to break up the monotony and he drinks them all like clockwork no matter how bad they are rita doesn't smile since she broke her hip in fact i haven't seen her since walt got sick and he and joan moved upstate to be closer to their son i worry about something happening to ray who will take care of rita? whose laugh used to echo off the walls and fill the place up pat's smoking again and it turns out he has congenital heart failure gail had a fall, a stroke and suddenly died i make the same dumb jokes only a few people smile at i sing to myself and people point it out karen sits in her motorized wheelchair ice and snow dripping from the wheels onto the scratched, muddy floor and tells me i'm pretty and funny and have a beautiful voice and i look at karen, her head tilted to the side and spit hanging from her buck teeth and wonder why such a wonderful funny girl with a heart of gold had to have the body she's stuck in why life is **** and why i'm trying i swear i'm trying fighting for something i don't know what why we fight why we try to make the world a better place when nothing can really change any of these dismal facts
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100
Walking back home, Like a walking dead. Thought I took DayQuil, But it feels like NyQuil. Wanna cuddle with a dog, But all I have is a cat. All the contradictions in life Become the reasons to laugh.
0
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 11:06 PM UTC
Funny little things
Dry your eyes. Fix your hair. Wipe your runny nose. Who knew. Things may improve, So, don't read the news. Go about your daily business As if the sky were blue, As if you didn't know, As if you don't care.
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
Plodding
The only thing that makes me different is the fact I know we're all the same. we play the same character in this greedy game we roll the dice and play our life’s, choose whether to do what’s right even though it’s all the same at the end of every night our limits our budgets are always tight some of us rebel some of us fight and hope that maybe the cards are in our hands tonight
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Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
All the Same
I sat hard-pressed against the plastic seat on the Metro, green line to Branch Ave, feeling the heat of all the dozens of bodies that surrounded me, 5:30 PM and everyone making headway for home after a long, hot work day. The swampy humidity clung to my arms like sticky tack. I wiped my brow with the sleeve of my blazer and listened to some 90s R & B on my iPod as I c o u n t e d d o w n the exits till I could free               myself      from the suffocating crowd. It was no day that was even remotely extraordinary, no life-changing series of events, no incredible people I had met; nope, just commuting back to the SE quadrant of town as I had every day that summer. I looked up and took a snapshot with my mind; I remember exactly how that sliver of time felt to me, how it looked, smelledsoundedtasted as I realized my days in D.C. had begun to feel like the norm, that I had grown accustomed to the claustrophobic train cabins, the repetitive street names, and 10% sales tax. So suddenly there was this catastrophic timeturning momentous magnanimous monumental magic of the most mundanely minuscule moment, as ordinary crawled up my veins and absorbed me in it. Somehow squeezed.in.between the rush-hour, the annoyance, impatience, and near-suffocation felt like home.
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Navy Yard-Ball Park