Laugh.

I can’t write about the wind and the gravel and the earthworms i hear moving, crowded and packed in the dirt beneath me. I can’t fixate on something isolated or narrow or singular or beautiful. I can, however, keep myself wide awake, my right leg bouncing. Ready to pounce. How unnecessary. I can keep my frustration with the mind-boggling impotency of the inefficient world until it burns holes in my guts that cups of coffee used to fill. I can be manic and keep things broad and overly-logical, to the point where if someone doesn’t agree with me that they’re moronic. I can be unfair, too. I know how to play.

You know, I thought I was a peaceful person for a second there, and then someone pulls a trigger and I want blood.

And I used to be such a nice girl.

I see what I want at the end of a hall and I’ll be the first to get it. Make no mistake; My elbows are poised and my shoes are tied in three knots. We can all laugh and have a summer picnic when the race is won and be polite and make conversation over the macoroni salad and the fly-covered cold cuts. I’ll look forward to it. If I can get this sneer off my face.