Defeated

dog has cancer in his jaw.

Lame.

---

Dear God,
Why did you make cancer?
Why did you Create something that over-Creates?
It's weird.

You should (could, you, please) un-Create the over-Creators?


----

Sigh. On the floor of my room there is an unframed painting, three library books, a worn out braided rug, and me: sprawled out in a long, flowy skirt and flipping through old photographs from--dance, cross country, high school, college.

I'm excited for the next (part) of my life that has
none of these things
in it.

Just because those things will leave a Space to be filled with

new
somethings.