Two-headed boy

All floating in glass

The sun it has passed

Now it's blacker than black

I can hear as you tap on your jar

I am listening to hear where you are

I am listening to hear where you are

TWO HEADED BOY. NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL

I'd like to start this out by alleging that I do not like to have any feeling of hate or dislike within me at any point at any time because it eats me away inside and makes me feel uncomfortable and I tend to retreat into myself and shut myself up in this tiny box inside myself of negativity. Its very claustraphobic in there.

At one point today, I shut myself up in this box. And I felt shaky and weird because I love love love everyone and this was not the usual, unconditional love. I felt slightly empty. It feels like, for girls at least, you are perpetually competing- youre either popular or on the waiting list to be popular. And by popular, I mean this in the shallow way that no one really is, yet everyone seems to be reaching to achieve. And there is the third group that just doesnt give a shit, and I am aiming to achieve that, but do not believe I am either popular, or complete enough to completely not care-- but the waiting list sounds just awful! I'm in an abyss. I hate grouping people. No one honestly fits into one category. I dont really mean what I'm writing. I was just really upset at them, and how people are so fast to judge. Why do we judge in the first place? Is it like the theory of us being afraid of the unknown? If we judge it, it makes someone tangible. We can put them into categories, we can put them into boxes. But really we are putting ourselves into our own little boxes of negativity as well. Wow I retract every statement I made about how I just sorted people into groups. We are all people, above all above everything

My hope in humanity was restored in the place I least expected to find it. Boys Wachu Football! Go Mountaineers! The epitome of high school guy acceptability. The tiniest boy on the team straggled behind the others during the sprints, way behind. His strides were choppy and footsteps pattering and the team waited in their pads and helmets, a pulsing white bundle of humans at the endline, all watching the runt of the team struggle. I thought the poor boy will get crushed by their mocking. (Please forgive me- I judged right there). But then you started to hear them cheer. A few called out the boy's name in support. Then they began to chant. Then a full on roiling cacophony of shouting and whistling arose and lifted to the blue-possibility sky and the boy finished the sprints and collapsed into a web of their support. It was great

Then I drove in the car with my cousins and I felt very whole, and I also felt old because we are old enough to drive around with no adults and we could go anywhere. But I also felt strangely young since I must be young if I still get excited about feeling old. And we blasted music, and bounced danced crazy around and curved and wove our thread of music and bubbling, overspilling joy into the streets and the song we played reminded me of someone i really really like and the warm head on my shoulder melted into my skin warm, human contentment

Sometimes I worry that I feel things too much. But then I hear musicians

Love, to me, is yellow.