Up Late, Early, Who Knows?

It’s a pretty dumb fucking way to make five grand disappear real fast.

What I have in savings from an entire year will ultimately vanish. Done. Gone. Spent as soon as my stupid fucking foot hit the stupid fucking pole.

I was so proud of my savings.

I was so proud of it. To have it. To drop my pile of uncrumpled, faced, banded and counted ones off at the bank once a week and check my balance. I loved that little ritual. That little thing was mine, special.

It’s not gonna happen like that for me.

I’m laying in bed, wide awake because I’m wired from not being able to expend any of this rotten energy, thinking:

This, today, this morning, this is as good as it gets for girls like me, huh?

I keep thinking that I miss running. I miss running. I want to run. I want, right now, to run down the sunny, empty, snowy, cold path. Just to think. Just to stop all of it for a second. Just to be with the trees and the fresh animal tracks and stand on top of the frozen lake, everything around me untouched by plows and noise and concrete and let something beautiful happen for five fucking minutes.

Laying in bed with ice on my foot.

This is as good as it gets.

My 25th birthday is fast approaching.

Celebrate being broken, broke, getting none of what I worked all winter to give myself for my birthday, and eat foul, stale, gluten-free cake.

Sounds like a party.


~ by The Stiletto-Shod One on January 31, 2013.

2 Responses to “Up Late, Early, Who Knows?”

  1. Hello Miss, I know this is an old post, but I remember the bit about the cake.

    I look at recipes and bake a lot, and I stumbled upon this recipe:


    Now I can’t say with 100 percent accuracy about it’s gluten free content, but I can say it does taste pretty darn good.

    If anything, I hope this kind of cake is something you receive next year and that circumstances are better.

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