march madness

my third notebook is full.
i have nowhere to stick my thoughts
my desk is become covered with full-sheets, half-filled
half-sheets, both sides
sticky squares with hilighter doodles

this is the time i need the calm down cat

i want to muse about my crush,
where no one will ever see how ridiculous i'm being
i want to draw cartoons of animals i like
i want to write very bad poetry about starting over
letting go
being open
looking for love
letting love find me

about being sad
about not being normal
about not being normal but trying super hard
so that everyone thinks that im the ok-kind of not-normal
about my frantic desire for change
and my crippling dependency on having something that is a constant.
something tangible.

i want alone time.
i want to be held.
i need swoop-me-up hugs.
this is going to be what takes me back
what puts me in my car
and turns her nose towards the sunset
and glides smoothly back to the city
i already can't believe i've left.

but this fear is so natural
so mundane.
taking risks is the person i envision myself to be.
i just need to meet the swoop-huggers here
i need to find where i can be alone.

who waits this long to leave home?
at the most vulnerable point in my life's cycle?

march, indeed.