Patches & scratches, bites & all sorts of things. I had to write - even though I should be essaying & packing & readying to leave. I don't want to, because everything will drop out of the sky, keeping it there is so much hard work, you know & you see it all, but I drop it so much that to keep it up & see it fall, even though it isn't me, it's odd. It's distasteful, I don't like it.
Oh! I am glad that you can see through me so easily, that now we are a bloc of our own in that classroom, it makes me feel better, but that's not really how it unfolds - you're not supposed to see crazyunbalanced yet, but we share it & it's some strange form of intimacy that I like. But there are other things I'm afraid of - cloying closeness, but craving it too, to share so much space & time with one person, to be so close and brutally honest scares me too much. But I want it too, I want it so much & for it not to fall out of the sky.

(BUT: to speak to you today, it was smoke curlingly nice, and we fell in line absolutely, it's rare and we have to catch it!)

Feeling: absolutely biting my lip confused
Listening to: whirring and scratching and humming of washing machines
Pretending: i will get all this work done. OH and I have to pack. WHAT?

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