Ask me about inconsequential shit.
i just want to drive over there and get on my knees and beg
because this pain endures and it cripples me.
and i want it to stop.
make it stop.
it hurts like hell.
i curl into a fetal position
to keep the emptiness from spreading
to keep myself from emptying the contents of my stomach
to hold myself in an empty bed
i like writing letters i never intend on sending
for they are selfish and rife with my oppressive emotions
i never want to feel this way again.
I haven’t been making any tumblr posts recently. I’m trying to save you all from reading mushy crap about being in love because I am acutely aware that no one wants to read platitudes about how happy some simpering, priggish schmuck is.
So let’s just talk about Red Pandas!
It was International Red Panda Day five days ago and I was a little sad to learn that the San Francisco Zoo did not house a single red panda. NOT A ONE. Oh, well. Ailurus fulgens is a tree-dwelling mammal that you can find in the temperate forests of the Himilayas. There has been controversy on that classification of Red Pandas since their discovery but thanks to recent molecular-systematic DNA, they have been given their own category, Ailuridae, that is placed under the superfamily of Musteloidea which includes racoons, skunks and weasels.
Red pandas are nocturnal and/or crepescular. They spend most of their days sleeping or lazing about in trees. The cutest position is when they dangle their limbs when it’s too hot to curl up against a tree branch or hollow.
Red Pandas > Koala Bears
I do not shed a tear while making my own breakfast
But I cannot help the small sigh that escapes my lips.
Sleep well, exhausted prince.
i may not actually be shy but i’m definitely going out of my head, though.
Laying in darkness I wish for my brain to die
but it rebels
And I shift around in my own little madness which feeds itself on frustration
so the glow of the monitor again fills the room,
to quiet the frantic voices,
and it casts weird shadows against my lamp and luggage
(the only objects in my possession)
and after a futile while my eyes water from strain
unable to droop, drop or dim
and I type this into my blog because I think you care
I think you care about my ridiculous Rollins-y rhetoric
I think you care about my admirable adroit alliteration abilities
Baby, I hope you end up reading this.
My go-to insomnia killer has been ruined forever because of you.
Me: Dude, the sun is up. How are you still awake?
Chelsea: INSOMNIA! [she climbs into bed]
Me: You realize that as you’re going to bed I am waking up for the day, you maniac.
Chelsea: [yawns] Good night!
I walk into the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of cereal. I notice in the sink there are some watercolor brushes and a plate caked with paint.
I scramble around the apartment looking for her masterpiece.
Here it is:
I’m sitting in this cafeteria
staring blankly at the things I must read
But I keep thinking about when you will return from class
And about how you’ll walk toward me
The gait of a stalking warrior
The uniform of a 70-year old man
Thank you for wearing suspenders today.