and also valentine. (in this case, they’re basically the same thing.)
YESTERDAY: wake up, five hours sleep (this is good), drive to Provo, go to class, think for a minute about King Lear and the calamity of fatherhood. write a love letter, go to class, consider the number of girls walking around with roses (it’s a lot), homeworkhomeworkhomework, teach a writing workshop, worry about the alarming amount of students hell-bent to succeed but absolutely indifferent to learning. homeworkhomewo—deadasleeponabenchinthehumanitiesbuilding—rkhomework, go to class, take pages and pages of notes, decide a night out salsa dancing is probably the last thing in the known universe that you are going to do, discuss love, passion, and pretzels with your sister, walk home zombie-like, tell your roommates that a night out salsa dancing is probably the last thing in the known universe that you are going to do, leftovers for dinner (thank you, mum). check the mailbox because you just never know, find it a flurry of hearts and happiness, owl always love ewe (thank you, Ren), discuss love, languages, and sea-salt caramel with roommates, inform M (guilty of the NPR Valentine) of his supreme dorkdom, recite a line of Whitman, remember the frosting and graham crackers in the cupboard, become confused over the correct use of a butter knife. wonder if you are not actually awake and moving after all but in the beginning stages of a scientific miracle: girl devoid of any real-time response walks, breathes.
collapse onto bed, fully clothed, possibly dead. decide you should probably at least brush your teeth. it would be the responsible thing to do. look up. on the ceiling: u r sherlocked.
ALLISON FOR THE WIN.