and then you get a ferris wheel

some days can be harder than others. some days it's the internal struggle of whether you eat your feelings some more or you just sit in your bathroom in the dark and have a good cry, mascara and snot running simultaneously.

twenty-four hours just isn't enough. right now i need twenty-eight or thirty. thirty hours would be great. and i wouldn't sleep, i promise. i'd study more so my mom doesn't get worried and i'd run a little farther and i'd schedule a whole hour for meals, maybe i'd even see breakfast. and then maybe, in those small moments before bed i'd be able to read this book i've had bookmarked at chapter two for three weeks. or i'd stare at the ceiling and stretch my legs while listening to vinyl...i haven't done that in ages.

sometimes you have to schedule it. the scenic route home so you get one more song on the radio, the thanks that the person painting your nails doesn't speak English because then you can ponder the significance of russian navy nails matching the swimsuit you won't be wearing to the beach because it's too cold, and then get wrapped up in the documentary on the TV-- the Discovery channel, it's actually the coolest thing.

and you have to be grateful for that time, and not judge it against the time that could have been spent doing other things.

and you have to hug the people around you who force you to get out: to play carnival games and eat cotton candy. for the one who will sneak you out to see the ferris wheel before the kiddies get to it, only slightly judging you for taking 8 pictures of it and wanting to put them all on instagram.

this is a time of year when emotions are high, time is fleeting, and every moment counts. and i want it all to last a little longer. to linger.

but i'm ready.
the final countdown.
and, you know, a ferris wheel.