I'm going to tell you about this poem that I am eventually going to write. And it probably won't be very good.

But it's about what happened to me today.

And how I spent nearly close to three hours inside of a Target today.

I had a giftcard for $25 whole buck-a-roo's to spend.

For lack of better understanding, I think I had a small panic attack. Or at least a shit ton of anxiety about spending these $25 buck-a-roo's! I have an idea about why.

The underparts of my eyelashes were a constant tension of wanting to cry and not wanting to cry.

I feared leaving the store empty handed, because I had an ungodly imagination that all the cameras were watching me walk around for nearly three hours without putting a single thing in my basket.

The whole funny thing about this eventual poem is that I ended up going over $25 buck-a-roo's anyway.

So really, what was the big o' fuss about anyhow?

Because I'm anxious about the next couple weeks of my life I have decided that something real bad is going to be happen. And because I have decided that, it will come true. Whether through intention or just an already established fate.

And then I started thinking about Steve Turill. Did I spell his last name right? In anycase, I think about him a lot. Or I guess recently. And I don't just go "Steve. Wonder what the guy is up to?" But I really think about him. Fucking whole days in my mind about how his day went. And he's always wearing that same red plaid shirt. For no reason. Maybe I miss Athens. Maybe I miss him. Maybe I miss somebody like him. He has a cute face. That could probably be it. And then I think about how sometimes I'm not a very good present person. I think it goes back to what I told Dan a couple of weeks ago. I miss people who "get me." Or at least a community where I felt really special.

I'm really sad too.

And I think hearing and reading about other peoples sadness is what has gotten me so down. But I can't blame them. That isn't fair. And I try to be so many things.

I have no idea why I spent three hours in a Target today trying to spend money that was given to me.

-slm

just in case

Dan is the only one that knows about this. But he may have forgotten, because it's really not that important.

I just remember that before I left for Ghana, I called Dan up and told him that if I die in an airplane crash or ended up murdered in Ghana that there was a box in the basement of my ex-boyfriends rented house on 8 1st Street in Athens. A typical office box with a piece of office paper taped on top in green marker "JUST IN CASE." I guess in some symbolic way anything I ever really cared about, object wise, was in that box. Its contents were to be given to whoever the hell wanted them. The rest to be donated or thrown away. I just wanted my friends to have a fair shot of things of mine, if they wanted it. But I didn't crash or get murdered so I kept all that fucking stuff.

Then I started writing JUST IN CASE journal entries in my lady diary.

Then I realized that I think too much about the future. There is too much doom and gloom to be writing JUST IN CASE entries.

Then it got me really scared about everything. About being here in California. About relationships in general. About friendships. I thought about calling Dan or Jon or Adam to try and calm me the fuck down. But it really wasn't that important.

But seriously and in no disrespect to the big BG, but JUST IN CASE, somehow, search the contents on my shit for my Facebook password and deactivate my account. JUST IN CASE. I do not want my facebook wall to become a shrine. I get too sad thinking about it. I do not want others to find therapy that way.

I'm becoming a fucking clown. That should say something about how I want to live life. So go fucking laugh and never ever write on my facebook wall again.

I'm really goddamn anxious all.the.time.now. And I own too many things.

-slm