Phone Draft. Dinner.

#1
I'm so weak. But
It's hard. To write an essay in a strange house, with strange people. To focus when strange people are saying things that make you hate them. To hate them. To socialize with strange people you hate. To hate someone and not let them know. To not know someone and still hate them. To sit across from someone you don't know but still hate... while holding a steak knife for the steak you won't order.


#2
This is a small Box, where big dreams shrink to fit. your expectations. Egos don't shrink though. They don't need to. Big egos fit like Russian Dolls inside the small Box. Fit like millions of your dollar bills stacked face to face. Egos are not made of fluffy clouds shaped like dreams. Egos are flat. They fit in the wallet. They fit in the Box. But they don't fit in your head. They swell it up, like a reaction. My reaction: box me up, smaller, away from you. I hide in a box, from egos. And dreams don't fit.