from my window. the truck on the right sells mexican fast food. i haven't been drunk enough to try it.  

my aunt on the left my mom on the right. why do i get to wear white socks? 

my dad and me. i love the pink sweater, no?  

ozge and i were almost getting our haircuts here this weekend. but it was too scary inside! 

i wake up in the middle of the night. i don't have to pee. i am not cold. i am not thirsty. i haven't had a bad dream. it is an unwelcome interruption i don't know what to do with. unwanted thoughts appear, the ones i want to forget, bury, wipe out, secretly toss, drop. drop like you would a piece of trash when nobody is looking and pretend it was never there. so it joins the heap of rubbish thoughts and feelings once possessed now orphaned.
the world does not know time. these days the world and me are not one. buried in my books, leafing through my past, washing my clothes off familiar scents, eating my dreams away like chicken salad sandwiches from lincoln diner. before late, i'm on the last page of a book, the food is consumed, clothes folded. how can life be boring when there is so much you overlooked. how could i forget those nights when i couldn't wait for my parents to leave so i would do the little things i do when i'm alone. there was never enough time then and there is never enough time now. soon the car will be pulling into the parking lot and me racing through the little apartment throwing myself in bed pretending to be asleep. and sleep.