Love In The Asylum

One of our writing exercises for today's class was to write a prose poem about being thirteen. I think the original prompt was to write about someone we were close to then that we aren't close to anymore, although some of the other responses went rather far afield of that. Not so surprisingly, it's kind of hard to pare down a long, emotionally complicated relationship into two hundred words. But I do like how this turned out, I think. I'm also finding that I like the distance that writing in third-person about myself gives me - this memory still has some sting to it, for various reasons, but writing about myself as someone else puts it far enough away that I can think of it on a craft level, and not just a personal level.


( She was thirteen and he was thirteen )

Fuck this week. Fuck my English class, I hate it. Except I don't, because the professor is amazing and the lectures are fascinating and my TA is a total sweetheart and I love it but god I HATE IT. I hate writing about poetry, I hate analyzing poetry, I hate the formal elements. I just want to read poetry and enjoy it for itself. I hate that this class is required for English majors and there is no prose equivalent for people who HEY NOT GOING TO BE STUDYING OR WRITING POETRY EVER KTHXBYE.

I have to re-write my first paper because apparently I'm a total fuck-up who totally failed at doing what I was supposed to be doing and just completely missed the point of the class because I suck and I HATE IT. Meanwhile I'm revising the other, longer paper for the same class, and I'm just about to turn in the paper for my religions class. I want to cry. On the walk home from my paper conference I was crying while I was on the phone with my mom.

I am so tired and I hate all-nighters so why do I pull so many of them? Aside from the fact that I suck. But I can't go to sleep because I have to do laundry because HEY I SUCK and didn't do it this weekend and now I have no clothes in which to stay up all night writing and rewriting papers  and freaking out about my classes.

I AM SORRY THIS IS AN ENORMOUS ANGST-FEST. THIS WEEK JUST IS MADE OF FAIL. LIKE I AM.
(the scary thing is I am still 1000x more sane and on top of things than I was this time last year)

Another prompt from here, and this one came out...uh, really angsty? Sorry. And resemblance to a certain caped crusader and his alien boyfriend is merely accidental and caused by the length of time I've spent lately reading DCU fics.