a wrench in the plans.

my room feels muggy this evening. the open window offers no relief as the air outside is just as humid and just as warm, with periodic patterings of heavy raindrops on my windowsill. my head feels muggy tonight as well, and on my desk computer speakers stream out chill tunes that fail to break through to my brain and offer some sort of solace. a tall glass of flourescent red water churns from two alka-seltzer tablets plop-plopped within, and tiny air bubbles catch the light from my lamp to sparkle in the strange elixer. small flecks of white also float around in the liquid, stirred by the sparkles, stirred by the bubbles, with most collecting at the bottom of my glass instead, becoming a gritty paste. despite the medicine for a cold or flu, i don't really care, and drink the faux-rosé, half for the sake of being medicated, and half for the sake of feeling medicated. the taste, sweet, but falsely so, and the remnants of a disgusting bitterness clutch to my taste buds. today, the weather was the least to blame.

as i walk back from campus, thoughts of the meeting that had just finished churn in my head like flecks of drugs in an unnatural liquor and leave a bitter taste in my mouth, to which i try to mask with a taste of ash. it is hard to know what to think as i walk along the street, through warm, muggy breezes and the sound of my own footsteps plop-ploping upon the sidewalk pavement. the words of my preceptor still linger in my ears, though seem unable to break its way into my brain. something about reorganizing my literature review? something about reformatting my research question? something about clarifying my writing? something about the shrieks of falcons outside the window? nothing was fiiting together anymore, and i don't know what to think; i've lost track of how to think. mind in a haze, and eyes in a daze, i walk back to my apartment and collapse in a muggy room, in a growing dim.

the basis of optimism if sheer terror.
: wilde.