revenge bedtime procrastination
it's currently 6:53 am as I write this. it's been a long night in the city of angels and I haven't slept a wink. I've been watching Martha's monologue from The Children's Hour on repeat so I could weep along side her, vicariously saying all the words I never got to say.
martha's monologue
it's not often a 21 year old girl can't hold it in any longer, just having to break down crying for her mother because she can't handle the sleepless nights and the horrors of the day. oh, the day. the reminder that when the light shines upon her, it will expose her and the embarrassments from the night before. the tears on her pillow, the nude core of what she felt, and the realization that she was just being ridiculous after all. until it sets in that she has been truly hurt and is desperately spinning to find a place of comfort, overwhelmed by fleeting thoughts of surrendering herself to dust.
the morning sun is beginning to rise and my heart began to stitch itself back together for the day and it's a struggle every time but what do we do?
grit your teeth and bear it.
that's what I say anyway.
November feels like the essence of waiting in the wings, or like an idle purgatory between the star fall of October and the white noise of winter. it's the ending burst of yellowing trees and promise of romance between the beginning of cold phantasmagorical nights coming near the start of another year.
I will make sure to post a guide on how to begin preparing for hibernation during the rough months of winter sometime this week. this post is going to be short because I haven't gotten enough sleep to continue. I hope you enjoyed this poetic rant of mine. I will make sure my next post is much more interesting. if you like these kinds of posts make sure to let me know so I can continue them as I try to gauge my audience while being myself.
with love,
jane willow
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