clean your room so you can wake up early.

'thats why youre my little lighthouse.'
'well im glad im someones lighthouse'

shine for me like you do. everyday im yours and im waiting for your shine. i cant thank those little ladies the fates.. enough for bringing you to me. this writing has been on my mind for days. but not until you.. not before you did it finally come together. writing sits on my mind it resonates until its time. until its ready. and although it ran through my mind like a race with no winner the words weren't ready until you guided me home. thank you.

every day. every day i am going to work. and i am putting together this apartment and i am thinking about this writing. and i am worried about this boy and stressing about my place in his life. and those are my concerns. that and writing. and im getting my feelings hurt and im going to ikea. and its all a farce. its all a facade. its all this made-up business. all of these things that dont matter. like the barbie house i made with my sister when i was little. we built these houses and we made these walls .. but none of it really mattered. none of it would be important tomorrow. none of it would last longer than my mom telling us to clean our rooms.
that.. is what this is all about. listening to npr and hearing the words of this amazing author. this knowing that my every day is a waste. his words inspired me and moved me and i cried on my way home from work. just from his words. just from the realization that the life i lead.. is a farce. its all a 'play on a stage we make'. his words ripped my chest like a beam that fell on it. 'all of the poverty and sadness in this life is a direct product of our own selfishness..' after a trip to zimbabwe he says 'looking at a mother holding an infant dying from lack of water all i could say was im sorry im sorry im sorry i didnt get here sooner.' i hear this on the radio and immediately i see a woman on the greenest hill holding a baby with brownest skin and i can see the desperation in her eyes and i cry. im riding in my honda after making several twenties at an easy job going to my apartment filled with things i love. i have wasteful bottles of water in my fridge and i am crying my eyes out over how this baby is dying and i am throwing away food to make the baskets clean. to make room for the next hamburger-eater. and all i can think of is how i dont want to participate anymore how i cant take this life.. this way.. anymore. how im done.
im crying as i take my feather mattress to the laundromat. and its disgusting to me.

i really hate the way you make me feel. and i meant that. what im learning is to not be sorry. i felt that way.. so i told you. so what. everyone feels that way but not everyone tells you. it just so happens you met this person that has no filter. most people have filters. thats all you know. this girl doesnt. and i wont apologize and i wont feel sorry. there are so many important things and you are not one of them. but what i can say is i am not sorry and i like how that makes me feel. so for that i thank you.

organic farming. running away and finding myself. not starting school yet or ever. moving. losing comfort. its something i have a choice about. for some people its how they live and i take it for granted. my ability to choose. what i am taking away is my ability to choose because what that is .. is a privilege. and what i am cutting myself off from is privilege. privilege is done as well as you.

'i've been looking around to no avail.'
whats here now is the avail.