nothing has ever felt so bizarre. that fucking mat, stuck under the front door, only moving when pushed with extreme force, felt like more of a bother than usual. that boy in your bed, greeting me with a pleasant "what the fuck?", your half-naked bodies glistening with sweat, disgusting me. that bong on the kitchen table, probably left with remnants of last night, causing the room to leave a dingy lingering smell behind, long after the music ended and your lips touched and everyone else went home. that bedroom door, that i've come to fear opening, leading to that bedroom, that fucking bedroom, where i've learned a lot and made a lot of mistakes and fucked up and fucked and hated and loved and lived because i ended up stuck there for reasons i don't care to think about, that fucking bedroom now filled with half-empty beer cans and dirty tissues and messy blankets and messier piles of dirty clothes, all things with someone else's name tag on them, because i don't live here anymore. we got a new mat in the bathroom. it smelled musty in there. i tried to quietly leave but realized i didn't care anymore and i slammed the door, hoping you'd wake up with a jolt and feel a sting of anger towards me, and maybe guilt, but probably not. the walk down the hallway felt hot and crowded. the elevator ride down 7 flights felt unsettling and constricting. i stepped out to breathe and realized i didn't have anywhere to go. i started to cry. not because i was sad. i was so angry. upset. disappointed. confused. why did this happen? i hate everything you stand for now. everything.

i don't know how this started or where i was going but it's nice to get things out once in awhile.