The past couple of days

felt like they just fused seamlessly into one big blur of plane tickets and comprehending how exactly a twenty-one-year-old fits into the grand scheme that is effecting legislation. One day I’m having palabok with a senator, then I’m discussing market mechanisms with the country delegation, the next day I’m forgoing sleep to make sure I catch sunrise seated on aisle 24 of a domestic flight for a half-day visit to disaster-stricken south. But this is what I do, and I happen to buy into the bourgeois concept of the hours flitting by when you love what you do, and so the hours don’t drag at least not so much, and so as of late I’ve been forgetting to mourn over all attempts to bridge time differences not standing a chance to the concept that is proper timing, and so wanting someone impossible to have and realizing how you really have a tendency to be tempted by unavailability is not as confounding anymore when top your to-do list screams figuring out how to articulate economic shifts and conjugating verbs in Spanish class and editing poems new and resurrected, and so finally – finally – you stop thinking of synonyms for exhaustion when in the dark someone’s hand finds its way to yours granting you an understanding of what it means to be still.




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