Seasons of Sadness
I didn't used to be able to cry silently. When I was growing up, sometimes I lay in bed at night and cried over fights within my family or between my siblings. I was never really able to stifle the sounds that came with the tears. Not so any more. Silent crying has become an art form with me. I've sought many public restrooms, elevators, and hidden corners for a good, silent cry in the middle of the day. As I was having a momentary breakdown in the Microservices bathroom yesterday, I thought, "this will all come to pass, in another year this will only be a fleeting memory of a feeling."

I realized that each year does have a feeling to it in passing. When I think of last year, I feel the hectic displacement of living in the dorms. Never really belonging among people, feeling forced out and judged. I feel an itch. The year before that is hopeful madness, coming of age, questioning and explosive growth. This year is anger. Ander and passive, subliminal sadness that runs a current through all things. I qualify years as the school year. A year begins with summer and ends with summer next. Soon this year will end...


[[I went deep in dreams last night... it was probably the weed, but I thought some f*cked up things. In any case, I slept like a rock and I think I appreciated the special effects of the TV Dune much more because I was stoned off my ass. Ne, Murray? (Murray says: ZZZzzzZzZZZ ...) Too bad there's still another four hours left.... ^^]]