 I like the feeling of being a blank state.
I think I've come through something.
This is hard for me to admit.
In the past I have always expected the worst to happen.
Perhaps I still do think the worst will happen,
But what if it doesn't?
What if, at this point,
I am in fact free.
That I can walk down the street.
Get on the bus.
Buy a magazine.
Talk to a guy in a shop.
Try on pair of shoes.
I don't need permission.
I can do that.
I got my room now,
And that's important.
It's like a base for me,
And then there's that guy, James.
I don't want him to bother me.
I don't want anyone to bother me.
I don't want anyone in my hair.
I got my room and that's the main thing,
But he is okay.
If I could allow one person to bother me,
It might possibly be James.
Who knows?
It is too early to say.
I still got the CD that one of the girls in the hospital made me.
I can't imagine who made it for her.
All of the music is pretty old on it.
Pretty random stuff
I like it though.
I wouldn't have liked this stuff before,
But hey, I'm a blank slate.
I can like it.
There's no rules.
No agenda.
No learning.
Just music.
Sweet, simple music.
I've been memorizing my favorites.
I don't have any instruments.
I've just been sitting in a patch of sunlight
At the put of the bed in front of the mirror.
I keep one headphone out,
And I sing the track along with the CD.
I wonder if my voice sounds good.
I wonder if I'm even in tune.
I have even tried a few scales,
Though very quietly.
How uncool is that?
Me singing scales in my new room.
On the disk is written Jackson Brown, Nina Simone, Bill Withers
On the disk is written Howard Jones.
Right now I feel like a starving person who is tasting food for the first time.
Howard Jones is my Mozart.
He is like buttered toast.
Don't ever tell anyone I said that.
I wonder what I should do.
When I was in the hospital it was easy.
They had a schedule.
I was like a kid the whole time.
They were in charge; I was a kid.
I jumped up and came down here.
I put from my mind comfortable thoughts about hospital life.
I am trying to block out thoughts about sex.
I feel like I want to sing, but I'm in the library.
I have fantasized for two years now about a job.
Any job.
Any job that would plucks me back into some sort of normal rhythm,
Some sort of normal society.
I thought for a while that the flock was going to be enough,
But I have to keep moving.
I am twenty three.
What the hell am I doing in a high street library
Writing about nothing?
I wouldn't mind kissing him once more.
Or at least, I wouldn't mind having a kiss only policy with him.
For some reason I feel that it shouldn't go any further,
But he's a pretty sensational kisser, hence the policy.
I wonder if I could do myself some sort of internal injury.
If I just kissed then left the room as soon as the kiss was over.
If I never took the seduction any further forward,
I couldn't damage a kidney or a loin or something.
It's a bit annoying I can't go into the boy's shop.
I want his advice.
I was to dress, or something.
But I look too much like a boy these days.
Why can't I look like a girly girl once in a while?
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