Omlette

Omelette from Madeline Sharafian on Vimeo.

2.22.14

words I like

blue
                       whisper
               

           always

                    starry
                                          crush
                       
                         bulletproof
            mint

                           
                             you
                                 
       

 

a meditation on breathing, in three parts

I wish it were raining. I wish it were raining and I was driving down the highway, wipers fwip-fwipping across the windshield, with a long way still to go. I can only breathe properly in a rainstorm. And it feels like I've gone a long time without any deep breaths—a tight, cracked feeling in my chest. I need some space and time to exorcise the ghosts from my shotgun seat. I need a reason to be alone.

I can't sleep anymore. My mind spins when I lay in the dark, and I end up turning on the light and reading fifteen pages to still my breathing. In the morning, I drink coffee. It makes my hands shake and my heart flutter, and turns my handwriting spidery. 

Driving home this evening, the sinking sun shone warm and orange through the still-bare trees. It sent shadows flickering over my arms. Out the other window, the moon shone through wispy clouds, almost full. I have too much on my mind, but I watched the rose gold spread over the tops of the houses, and was at peace.

a dead-end summary

It's January 31, 2014.

I've been engulfed by a tidal wave of really difficult schoolwork. It bores, yet terrifies, me. I've had an eye twitch for three weeks.

I feel inadequate, unequal to the task, and it makes me want to hit things. Instead, I'll wear a brighter lipstick shade.

I want a flower garden tattooed over my arms and legs.

I planted seeds at the beginning of the semester, but they haven't come up yet.

Too many deadlines. I thought I had my act together, but here I am scrambling for control.

I wish I had a puppy to pet.

Last week I realized I don't miss him any more. I guess it goes both ways, now.

It's the end of January, a month gone too fast. I'm afraid I've done nothing memorable. Scholarship applications make me feel like I've never done anything memorable.

But I've practiced my bass every day of the new year, so far. So maybe that's worth something.

in the afternoon

My six year-old sister and her best friend are in our backyard, sledding together down the thin scrim of muddy snow. She has a hat with a cat on it. Her friend's has an owl. I can watch them through the kitchen window, and hear the giggling and high-spirited shouts. They start at the top of our hill, one in front and one behind, and they blaze off into the wood line together. I wonder if they'll remember this later, years from now. If they'll remember their happiness. I wonder if I will.

snow day