Conversations with Myself

55 Days and Counting


a couple minutes to 5 a.m. you find yourself staring blankly at your laptop screen.

55 days and counting.

you can count the number of times you’ve called home singlehandedly.

you haven’t spent enough time with snippets and trickles of thoughts in your head. you hang out with them wrapped around your neck, hovering above your shoulders to keep you company.

go make more friends, perhaps?

it’s been chilly in providence. sometimes it drizzles. sometimes it pours. anything but the overbearing tropical sun, remember? it’s behind you. happy now?

one time you considered putting on a scarf, but ended up throwing it back in your closet. scarves have never been your thing, though they’re your mother’s staples.

at this point you can no longer read her messages in her voice.


“even sweetness can scratch the throat, grandma said, so stir the sugar well.” – ocean vuong

there’s so much chocolate in everything.

two months into college, and you can recall the taste of chocolate just by thinking about it. yikes.

ever tasted anything so sweet it dries your throat and makes you want to throw up?

late-night air tastes sweet jammed in your lungs so you feast on it.

you breathe and breathe and breathe and breathe and breathe until you’re exhausted.

“…thus nourishment defined by extinction.” – ocean vuong

in contrast, being jammed among throngs of people and people and people and people and people and people tastes cheap.


others tell you there’s still so much time to figure things out and you’re only half convinced.

which makes it all right if your mind is always late for its trains.

sometimes the express trains never stop, and it gets scary.

is four years a long time? or is it just enough to get used to something or someone

before you part ways and move on with your lives?


faint laughter erupts in the distance.

evade the noises and go be happy instead.

what is happiness?

you don’t define it. you feel it, and don’t think about the moment it stops.

silence rings the loudest.


tap water is clean, which is great.

everything else, though, needs to be filtered.