Everybody wants to be somebody and, once, I was. For a little while.
The girls from Love two and three walked down to the Cather-Pound-Neihardt dining hall together. It wasn’t an unusual sight. Whoever was around at dinner time would eat together. Sometimes, they would hang out and wait in the TV lounge until a few people had gathered. Tonight, however, was different.
Fuck life. Fuck adulthood. Fuck being responsible. Fuck you if you hand handle a four letter word. No one asked you to read this fucking tirade.
Fuck diabetes and the fucking bullshit that goes with it. Fuck needles. Fuck insulin. Fuck half the paycheck that goes to keeping me the fuck alive. Fuck eating healthy and still being fucked over by the gene pool. Fuck never being able to eat anything unhealthy or risk the five fucking days it takes to recover. Fuck everyone who makes fun of you for the things you eat. Fuck the daily exercise that results in zero weight loss after three years. Why the fuck am I even trying?
A ladybug on my windshield.
A ladybug was on my windshield when I left work today
she clung to the glass as I pulled away
After a few blocks
she gingerly moved a few millimeters
By the time I got home
she was swiftly moving toward the edge of the windshield
Then she scurried to the wiper
and rested underneath
protecting herself
from the frequent Nebraska wind
Written on 31 October 2015
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