A bead of water
At the tip of my nose
I was not crying
The title I gave it (we have to title our poems for class) is Healing. But that doesn't seem quite right. Anyway, I'm sure it's lame. But it made me feel good to write it and say it.
Still tired from last night. Someone called my room a little after 8 this morning. I wanted to shoot them. I hadn't even been in bed for four hours yet. They were looking for my roommate. The roommate who moved out after the first three weeks of this year and who now lives next door to me. So I'm pissed. It's March. She moved out in September. You'd think anyone who had any reason to call here would know this by now. Aggrivation...
Just about time to head to class. My hair's still wet, so I should put it up before I go. Blowdryers? Pah! Never! Adieu.
Edited 1:49 PM: Apparently I was wrong about the poem. The TA and the prof both loved it. I'm a good writer, just not a great judge of my own writing. Go figure.